My Delirium
by NixiexGrey
Summary: Clary and Simon's dream have finally come true: they've landed a spot on the hottest show in America and can't wait for things to get better for the band from there. Only thing is, the "hottest show in America" belongs to a certain arrogant blond boy.
1. Center Stage

**Looks like my Muse decided to be generous today! So here's a new story idea, I hope you guys enjoy and review if you **_**really**_** like it because I'm not sure if I want to continue this or not.**

**P.S. Hawaii Five-O is on and OMG ALEX O'LOUGHLIN YOU ARE SO GORGEOUS IT IS RIDICULOUS.**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE SONGS/ALBUMS I MENTION IN THIS STORY UNLESS I SPECIFY OTHERWISE, JUST SO EVERYONE KNOWS! As much as I **_**wish **_**I did, I don't. Nor do I own any of the characters mentioned–even though they seem to haunt my very mind. Sadly, I just own the plot, so I hope you all enjoy it!**

_Songs:_

_Obession by Sky Ferreira (A song that Clary wrote with her band that plays while she's walking on stage)_

_F**k You by Lily Allen (During the interview because this is TOTALLY her attitude the entire time, so if you have virgin ears and don't want to hear swearing…well, I mean, the title itself is a warning.)_

_

* * *

_

"Annnnnnd we're live in five, four, three…" Alec Lightwood counted down from behind his post, spinning in his chair in anticipation. He eagerly watched as the line of cameramen before him prepared themselves to start recording and couldn't help but hop up and down in excitement the moment the tiny red dots all lit up at the same time. If you went up to him on any day–whether or not he was in a good mood–and you asked him whether or not he enjoyed his job as the producer of America's most popular late night talk show, his answer would always be the same: _HELL YES!_

Unlike most of his counterparts, Alec loved the entire concept of it all: knowing that his show, something he created with his very own sweat, blood and web cam back in the day before it got major views, was ranked number one in America. Sure, maybe more than three quarters of the entire country watched it for the sole reason being the arrogant bastard that was the host, but it was once a dream he came up with during his high school years and he was proud to still have his job after all these years.

However, the talk show host didn't seem to share the same feelings–yes, he did enjoy the fact that it meant he raked in a seven figure paycheck every month and the endless stream of women that always followed him like a shadow. But he didn't like the whole technicality behind it all, which was where Alec came in. Together, they were the perfect pair–they were practically inseparable.

But on this specific day, the host wasn't in too much of a chipper mood. Prior to arrival in the studio, his thirtieth girlfriend demanded he propose to her on said show so that the world could see that he was happily taken, regardless of how many times he told her they weren't serious at all. That, and if he were to marry, he'd lose about a good three quarters of his viewers–something he wasn't ready to give up since he was still in his prime.

So she stormed out in hysterics, which caused his makeup artist to be infuriated at him since the stress was "taking a toll" on his face. But her walking out on him wasn't the reason he was so stressed; no, it was a reason no one would believe in, no matter the conviction in his tone. So he didn't share it with many people, which wasn't too hard since there was a lot people actually didn't know about him, regardless of how many pop culture magazines were out there that "DISHED ON THE HOTTIE WITH A BODY AND A SHOW! TURN TO CENTERFOLD FOR MORE DEETS!"

Plus, faking was part of the job. In fact, most–if not all–jobs in show business required being able to pull off a façade no matter what the job requirements were. Welcome to Plastic-Ville, where no one knows what the word "genuine" means!

Speaking of which, right after the count down, the host plastered on a phony smile and stepped out from his hiding spot behind the curtain that was pulled back to reveal the fake landscape of Manhattan skyline at night that was painted on half-assed so that it looked real on TV, but not in reality. Upon closer inspection, one of the buildings was actually in the midst of peeling off.

The moment he did, a loud uproar welcomed him and for a split second, the host actually felt like he meant something to these people. This moment only lasted for a second, as it did every time the show kicked off, but the host made sure to revel in the applause because it was a complete ego-trip for him. And who didn't like to have their ego stroked every so often?

"Hello everyone!" he bellowed over the audience, causing the cacophony to immediately simmer down. "Welcome to Simply Jace! May you all take a moment to truly marvel that, yes, I am indeed, this stunningly attractive in reality. I don't mind, although the pretty little lady in the third row might need a napkin to wipe the drool off her face."

Jace smirked when the cute brunette flushed as one of the cameras swung to zoom in on her reaction. When Alec frowned a little, Jace shrugged and laughed. Pushing Alec's buttons was a crowd-pleaser, and whether or not Alec liked admitting it, it certainly did make a difference when the views added up.

"But in all seriousness–because regardless of how completely arrogant I can be–we've got a pretty awesome line-up for you gals and guys tonight because instead of having the stereotypical Hollywood airhead actress/actor, we've got some real talent on the show for once! Maybe even a little music from a local band that my producer, Mr. Lightwood, figured would add more to the comic relief because they're honestly a joke"–another dagger eye look from Alec–"but hey, that's just my opinion."

Alec sighed, rolling his eyes and throwing his hands up in the air. Yes, working with Jace had its perks, but that certainly didn't mean it didn't have its downsides as well. But hey, the crowd loved him and he couldn't blame them.

* * *

"Clary, you're biting your hand off."

Clary spun around, completely taken off guard, and gasped when she took in the shock of black hair, black beady eyes and pale skin. Then the face registered in her mind and she immediately relaxed when her body identified Simon. She had been peering around the curtain to get a glimpse of the studio for the first time while the show was live since she had gotten too caught up with the makeup artist. She implored to add in several pounds of foundation because "any flaws, including freckles, are intensified on HD TV and baby, you've got a _lot_ of ground to cover".

But if she was trying to convince Clary to cover up, she was doing a horrendous job at it. So she opted with doing her own makeup, something that caused the black-haired blue-eyed makeup artist to cry a river. _Oh well_.

Just thinking of the makeup artist's words made Clary's hands clammy, which made her all the more nervous, which caused her to resort to biting her nails off. And that, in turn, wasn't in her benefit since it not only ruined her freshly painted green nails, but clued Simon in that she was beyond nervous–which she hated the most.

He was her best friend and could read her like a book, if she allowed herself to show emotion. However, despite how many years he'd known her, he never _reacted_ the way she wished he would when he could decode her moods. Sometimes, his humorous way of looking at things worked, but most of the time she just wished he knew the right time to say the right words to say and how to say them instead of trying to change the topic or joking around. Most of the time, it annoyed her, like right now. She was sick of it, but she knew that deep down inside of her, she loved the kid to death.

"Gee _thanks_, Simon," she snapped, unable to reign in her emotions. "I would've never known that if it weren't for your impeccable observational skills. Clearly, they're on par, especially right now."

Simon narrowed his eyes behind his glasses and leaned in closer, his lips a tight seam. "You know they say sarcasm is only a sign that a person is insecure about himself or herself," he whispered. "And I know you, Clary. You're just being rude to me because you're nervous you're going to mess up tonight."

She gulped audibly, but he was too into his speech to notice. "And let me tell you, Clary, that we have practiced so damn hard that messing up a single note is _impossible_. Okay? So don't freak out. You're amazing." Simon smiled sheepishly with gleaming eyes.

Clary had to admit that this was one of the few rare times Simon knew exactly what to say and bit her lower lip to prevent a huge smile from spreading over her face. "Thanks Simon," she giggled, pulling him in for a hug. Simon wrapped an arm around her and gently squeezed back, kissing the top of her forehead before pulling back.

"Your interview is coming up," Simon sighed. "Prepare yourself for Mr. Asshat Extraordinaire!"

"I'll try," Clary snorted, folding her arms across her chest. "But you know I hate this guy."

Simon winced. "Try to be nice to him, for our band. Okay? Think of him as the stepping stone; soon, maybe Jay Leno will be begging to interview us!"

Clary made a gagging gesture, eliciting a laugh from Simon, before she heard her cue–the audience cheering while the chorus of their hit single _"Obsession"_ started playing. Clary felt her face flush and flashed Simon a nervous smile before swallowing her pride and stepping out from the shadows.

* * *

The light was near blinding and she had to blink a few times before her eyes adjusted themselves. Throwing the cameras a shy smile, she waved a few times as she walked over to the massive oak desk where Jace stood, looking quite debonair in his black tuxedo with his spine erect with his hands folded behind his back and a smirk playing on his lips.

"Hi," she said sheepishly, sticking her hand out. He grabbed one of her hands and did what Clary never expected him to do: bending slightly at the waist, he drew her hand to his lips and barely grazed her knuckles with his lips before dropping her hand. She felt her face heat up and was rendered wordless as she stumbled into one of the massive red cushion chairs.

"So nice to finally have you on my show," Jace smiled, and for a second, Clary almost believed he was sincere. But the moment her eyes locked on his, she knew it was all an act. Being the only girl in a basically all-boy band gave her the upper hand since it meant she stuck around long enough to observe boys and how they reacted in certain situations. And right now, Jace was giving her a look Eric–another band mate–gave his mom whenever she got angry at him for having the band over too late. It was a sincere enough smile to go unnoticed if you weren't really reading into the expression–which was borderline disgust, Clary could tell–with a mischievous glint in his eyes that clued her in that Jace probably had some ulterior motive by having her on his show; one that she wasn't all too eager to find out about.

"So nice to finally _be_ on your show," Clary simpered. She reclined into the chair and flashed him an innocuous smile when a few of the audience members cracked up at her joke. Clary knew she hit home by the vein that twitched in his temple.

But if it truly bothered him, it didn't show. "Yes, well, blame my producer." Clary watched as a cameraman swung the camera to waste another three seconds of air time filming Alec roll his eyes before swinging back onto her.

She watched this show once, but took away enough in that one episode: one thing being that Alec and Jace bantering was once a main supplement of the show that quickly dissolved into the two of them exchanging funny looks. Clary didn't know why the bantering stopped; in her humble opinion, it was one of the funnier aspects she would definitely be into if it weren't for Jace being more into himself than the banter.

"Anyway," Jace leaned back as well, steepling his fingers as if in deep thought, and tossed her a careless smile. "Tell me about your newest album _The Burdens Of Being Upright_. What was your inspiration for the album title, and the songs written on it? And don't say me, because I can_not_ tell you how many times I've been told that."

Jace tilted his head towards the nearest camera and winked at it, causing Clary to shudder internally in disgust. She couldn't believe that this had to be the first live interview and it was with the one boy she hated most. She knew Jace and Alec way before they were famous since they all went to the same high school–all of them skipping college coincidentally to follow their aspirations, whether it be having a famous TV show or being in a rising band–but it seems as if the past year after graduation, Jace hadn't change much. Nope, he was still the same full-of-himself wisecrack he was back in Raziel High.

Regardless, Clary had to suck it up, plaster a huge smile on her face and try to warm up to Jace, if only to take one for the team so that he'd only support her instead of destroy her on national television in the very same way she'd destroyed him back in their schooling days.

"I actually came up with the title," Clary flushed, busying her hands by knotting them in her lap. "I feel like many people believe that in order to succeed in life, we're supposed to fill in a certain criteria and believe it or not, it really puts a lot of pressure on us kids to do things we don't want to do just to 'be successful' when really, that's not entirely the case."

"Oh, it isn't now?" Jace smirked, thoroughly amused, as he leaned in closer. "Would you care to explain?"

Clary narrowed her eyes imperceptibly and had to pause for a second to breathe. "Well, yeah. Look at you. You didn't go to college and look how successful you've become, Mr. Number one in America."

Clary could tell this appeased Jace by the look of approval he gave her before he tossed the camera another wink. She couldn't help but notice how he never once directly looked at her for longer than a few minutes before turning to look away. Unable to stop herself, Clary felt her cheeks burn and hoped to God whatever the makeup artist said about HD TV wasn't true.

"You do have a point," Jace chuckled. "And look at yourself, Miss Rising Star. I will admit, _Obsession_ happens to be my most played song on my iTunes with its catchy beat and true lyrics, so I'll give credit where credit is due."

Clary choked. Was he…was he actually _complimenting _her? Had he gone completely mental? Clary surreptitiously pinched her wrist when the camera was still focused on Jace's enormous ego and hoped it took up the entire screen so no one would see her flinch when the pinch felt very much real.

"Although to my disappointment," Jace went on, "I hear you'll be playing a new song for us, one you've written about a month ago so it didn't make your album?"

"Yeah," Clary smiled from ear-to-ear, excitement taking over. "I really am excited to perform it since I've worked so hard on it along with the guys."

"It must be tough," Jace mused, "being the only girl in band."

"Not really," she shrugged. "I get that an awful lot, but the guys are awesome. I grew up with them, so it's like they're all my brothers in a way. My mom always used to ask, 'when did I give birth to four more boys?' as a joke because they would always come over after school." _Not that you didn't know that already,_ she mentally added.

Jace smiled, looking genuine for once with what Clary thought was regret in his eyes, until the look was gone a second later, leaving her to doubt her eyes. "Does being the only girl make you the one in charge, or is there someone else in charge?"

"I wouldn't say 'in charge'," Clary said tentatively, adding in the air quotes for emphasis, "but being the only girl does have its downsides, like I can't really talk about boys with them."

"Don't you have any girlfriends to talk about that with?"

"Not really," Clary laughed, more at the fact that Jace had to pretend he didn't know this than the question itself. "I've always been a tomboy and as a result, girls didn't get along with me. Sure, the guys have had their fair share of girls, but none of them are like me since they always come and go. I always stick around because they treat me like a guy."

"Well, you certainly don't look like a guy now," Jace chuckled, gesturing to her gold off-the-shoulder sequined top, silver leggings and of course, gold Nike shoes–an outfit her band picked out for her, strangely enough. With no girlfriends, it was hard to pick out anything remotely fashionable, especially when all you had to consult on second opinions were a bunch of leery-eyed meat-heads who were high believers in "the more skin, the better".

"I sure hope so," Clary frowned. "I worked hard on picking out this outfit!" Despite her honesty, the audience roared with laughter, probably thinking she was kidding when she was being serious. But Clary didn't mind; she liked the fact that the audience was warming up to her. _Now if only they actually got to hear me sing…_

"Well," Jace leaned in again, "if it helps, I think the effort was worth it."

Clary felt her breath catch. She knew he flirted with most of his female guests, but the tone in his voice brought back enough memories to keep her throat closed up, just for a second. Then she managed to collect herself a second later, plastering a coy smile on her face. "Thanks."

And with that said, Jace turned his entire body towards the nearest camera, signaling the interview was over as he announced that the show was going into commercial break. When Alec announced that they weren't filming anymore, Clary let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding in the entire time.

"Nerves?" Jace chuckled from beside her, causing Clary to look up at him…and poorly attempt to stifle her laughter when she noticed the makeup artist was applying what looked like bronzer onto his face.

"Y-you could say that," Clary gasped in between laughing fits.

"Jace!" the makeup artist shrieked, a sponge saturated in bronzer expertly angled an inch away from his cheekbones in her hand. "Will you stop frowning? You have to wait a few seconds before you can move!"

"Izzy," Jace snorted impatiently. "I told you, _no bronzer_. Now I'm going to look ridiculous in front of a million viewers when my skin starts to look like it's falling off!"

The corner of Izzy's lip twitched, threatening to turn into a smile. "Oh? That so? Oopsie."

"_ISABELLE LIGHTWOOD!"_ he roared just as Alec called her name. Izzy's head jerked up and with a quick "wait one moment", she ran off to her brother's side.

"I'm going to chop all her hair off and glue it to her face," Jace scowled as he gazed into the compact and attempted to rub the slightly darker half of his skin off with a wet rag.

"Lovely," Clary said, crinkling her nose. "You've missed a spot, by the way."

Jace's head snapped up. "Where?"

With a sigh, Clary heaved herself off the chair, plucked the rag out of his hands and leaned in to swipe off the bronzer near his hairline despite his protests. "If this is her doing makeup, then I'd hate to see her with a bunch of paint cans and a blank canvas."

"Welcome to my world," Jace snorted. "Is it off now?"

Taking a step back, Clary looked over him once more before nodding. "Thank you so much," Jace sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "I owe you one, big time."

"Do you now?" Clary smirked as the realization of his words hit him, but before he could protest, Clary felt someone yank on her freehand and spun around to see Simon on the other end of her hand.

"C'mon Clary," Simon urged. "We're going back on in a minute, and we kind of need to do a quick mic check. Eric screwed up the equipment…again."

"Ugh, _again_?" Clary whined, throwing Jace a quick 'help-me' look before letting Simon drag her back to the set.

Fortunately for the band's sake, Eric's horrible footing only affected the guitar's plug into the amp, so nothing irreplaceable was broken. After a quick tune-up, the band was ready to go right when the commercials were over with.

Barely able to focus on anything, Clary felt the raw adrenaline bubbling in her stomach and she tightly gripped onto the mic stand to stop herself from passing out with anxiety. This wasn't her first gig, so she had originally thought that maybe performing live wouldn't be too hard since she'd performed with her band for quite some time in clubs or bars. But she might as well have never performed ever in her entire life because those very same butterflies that took up residency in her stomach the first time she'd ever performed in her life in front of her school as Belle in Beauty and the Beast in a school play in the second grade–the only moment she'd ever actually cried and wet herself in public view in her entire life–were now currently in her stomach.

"Clary," Simon whispered from beside her, leaning across his keyboard to whisper into her ear. "Nay nay, Kaye." _Don't worry, Clary._

Hearing Simon's comforting code words they had come up with since they were kids and barely knew a word in English immediately relaxed Clary. Closing her eyes, Clary smiled and whispered back, "Nay nay, Saye." _Don't worry, Simon._

**Clary: I actually kind of like this idea.**

**Me: I agree, it's a little less chaotic.**

**Jace: Where is the angst? The tortured romance fantasies? The overall girly-ness that I feed off of?**

**Me: It's coming, it's coming! Just wait for the reviews!**

**Simon: No more kissing, please. I beg you!**

**Me: It isn't a story if there aren't any kissing scenes :)**

***Simon blanches***

**Izzy: You're a true sadist by making me cry all the time.**

**Alec: I'm not complaining.**

***Izzy chucks a shoe at Alec***

**Me: Hey, don't kill yourselves...yet!**

**REVIEW IF YOU WANT TO CONTINUE!**


	2. Intro

**Because I have no life, I decided to write another update :) I'm really excited for this story and I hope you guys feel the same! Don't worry, I'm not stopping any of my other stories. I just tend to come up with a lot of ideas so I'm writing them all out before I forget them and if I come up with more ideas for my other stories depending on my mood, I'll update them, mkay? Woo!**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NONE OF THE SONGS, ALBUMS OR CHARACTERS USED IN THIS STORY. THEY ALL BELONG TO THEIR PROPER OWNERS, AND I JUST WISH I WAS THAT ORIGINAL! Wah :'(**

_Songs:_

_My Delirium by Ladyhawke (Clary's" new song" _**SEE DISCLAIMER**_)_

_Summer's Song by Dear Juliet (For Simon and Clary's little "moment")_

_Get Over It by Eagles (Jace's personality song, because honestly, the lyrics are SO him. And apparently, this is my English teacher's song. Go figure.)_

_

* * *

_

Clary tuned out the rest of the world the moment Simon's fingers brushed over the keyboard, pressing the keys that made up the intro followed by Eric's spastic drumming. Swaying to the beat, Clary inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, visualizing no one in the room, just her and her band, as she began to sang.

"_Late night, waiting by the phone_

_Tonight waiting for an answer_

_Heart beat drumming double time_

_I need one chance to be near you…"_

As the song progressed, Clary completely immersed herself into the music that she didn't even realize they were finished until Simon's little jingle at the end came to a stop. Before she even got to open her eyes, Clary heard an eruption of applause and smiled, taking her time fluttering her eyelids open to truly relish the moment. Then, when her eyes were open, she took in everything: everyone was standing up, screaming and cheering with hands waving all over the place.

Clary felt her heart–which had been pounding at three thousand beats per second–skip a beat before slowing down, the moment she had been looking forward to her entire life finally coming to an end. She heard her band mates whooping it up and soon felt herself being lifted into the air. Feeling beyond weightless, Clary threw her head back and let out the most amazing laughter she ever experienced in her life–one that made every cell in her body vibrate with it.

Eventually, the guys set her down and after straightening her outfit, she threw the camera one last smile with three tugs of her left earlobe–a code she had come up with her family as her way of saying "hi" or "bye" to them without anyone else knowing.

"Annnnd, we're clear!" Alec cheered, signaling for all the cameras to stop recording. Once more, the audience exploded into a cacophony of cheers, which only caused Clary to smile once more, bowing with the rest of the band for the last time before breaking into dance when _"Obsession"_ started blaring through the speakers.

"Not too shabby," an amused voice stood out among the discord. Clary spun around to see Jace standing a few feet away from her, his feet shoulder-width apart and his hands shoved into his pockets. "For a start, that is."

Clary felt a slow smile creep up on her face. "Thanks, I guess."

"I was wondering if you'd be interested in joining me for lunch," he offered. "I'd like to make a proposition with you regarding your band and its future career. Keep it in my that this could very well be the moment that could change your world, only if you're bold enough to take the risk." He paused, pursing his lips as if in deep thought and added as an afterthought, "No pressure, of course."

Clary felt her entire body thrum with excitement at his offer–and yeah, also because he was technically asking her to join him for lunch–with a bit a sadness at the past reference: _this could very well be the moment that could change my world forever._ Throwing her words back at her, whether it was intentional or not, stung.

"I-I have to talk to my band," Clary rasped. Jace nodded tersely before spinning on his heel, tossing a "you know how to reach me" over his shoulder before walking away from her. Clary watched as he walked away, slipping behind the large red curtains and disappearing from her sight.

"What did he want?" Simon asked from behind her, but Clary barely registered her words as reality hit her. Jace had caved first; after a whole year of no communication, after all the heartache and confusion, _he_ decided to be the instigator. And to be quite honest, she couldn't even begin to comprehend every emotion that threatened to take over.

So there she was, on the first official stage of her soon-to-be blooming career, with her band mates too caught up in the excitement to notice anything else except Simon, more unsure of herself than she had ever been in her entire life. Even more confused than she had been the first time Jace had asked her to lunch.

* * *

_Two years earlier, during the summer…_

It was a typical cliché that the best of friends always ended up as a "couple" together in the end, but only after making a few mistakes prior to the supposed inevitable "bond" so that they learn through each other's experiences that regardless of how much crap life flung at them, they always had each other. Cue in sappy love song and a dramatic headshot as the lips touch with just a bit of Hollywood's most profound makeup artists covering up the embarrassing acne and you have Clary's first memory of kissing Simon before your eyes.

Except it wasn't that romantic at all; no, it was in his basement, during The Notebook–a movie Clary had suggested since he was just getting over another sorrowful crush and he was in the mood to cry for something more pathetic than himself–and since the air conditioning unit was busted, the room was stifling hot because of the lack of ventilation and not because of the kiss itself.

On screen, Noah had just dramatically scooped Allie up in his arms with the torrent rain–something Clary pointed out as over excessive, plus dangerous judging by the storm itself–pouring down as if God himself was contemplating drowning the world again and kissed her.

"So this is the big kiss every girl dreams of having?" Simon blanched.

"Pretty much," Clary sighed. "Except me. It looks too complicated for someone as simple-minded as me to be able to accomplish, let alone enjoy."

Simon smirked. "You were always a cat at heart. But really, I honestly don't see the appeal to it. He's basically eating up her face for starters, not to mention it's raining like batshit crazy out there and I'm pretty certain that's a surefire way of getting pneumonia so go Mr. Heartthrob for that. Plus, I feel like kissing in a rain storm that heavy would be a similar experience as drowning since as it is, people barely breathe while kissing."

Halfway through Simon's speech, Clary had doubled over in laughing, but by the time he had finished, Clary's face put her own hair color to shame.

"Careful there, Allie," Simon drawled. "You might end up flying away since you're a bird and all."

Clary clutched her ribs and felt lightheaded from laughing, but she couldn't find a way to stop. After a few moments, she managed to get her breathing down to normal and she sighed happily, leaning her head against Simon's shoulder to stop the world from spinning.

"God, you're ridiculous," she giggled.

"And you enjoy it," Simon pointed out. "So no complaints, okay?"

"I just have a question though," she said, pulling herself up so that she was facing him. "How'd you know you barely breathe when you're kissing someone? Have you kissed a girl before and not told me?"

Even though the only source of light in the entire room was being emitted from the paused movie on the TV, Clary could swear Simon lost some color. Which only led her to believe that if she didn't stop, she was headed towards something Simon wasn't comfortable talking about–which, for those who didn't know Simon well enough, was a rarity because even though he was a really shy guy, nothing was really that uncomfortable for him to not discuss. Especially to her, his best friend, his non-biological sister who knew everything about him! Or at least, thought she knew everything about him.

"N-No," Simon spluttered. "I wouldn't not tell you something, Kaye. Noo-na!" '_I wouldn't ever_' was the translation.

"Okay," Clary sighed in relief. "And if it helps, I never kissed a boy either. So we're even." But if she was expecting the conversation to end easily at that, she was disappointed when an awkward front settled in the air, saturating the atmosphere with unease. In an attempt to break up the tension, Clary grabbed the remote and hit 'PLAY'.

"Hey, Clary?"

"Mmm?"

"I have something to ask you," Simon mumbled, barely audible over the movie. Clary paused it again and spared a cursory glance at Simon from her periphery and felt another pang of unease settle when he was staring at his hands, which were knotted on his lap.

"Go ahead, I'm listening."

"You've, uh, never kissed a boy before," Simon said slowly. "And I haven't kissed a girl before…and we're good friends, right?"

Turning to face him, Clary stared at him as if he were speaking a foreign language she never knew he was capable of speaking before. "We're obviously good friends, Saye. The best of, actually –or at least I'd like to think we are. But I don't see the rele–"

And that's when he leaned in, so fast Clary barely had time to register how close his face was to hers before he gently grazed his lips against hers. Clary froze up immediately; her mind was beyond reeling, adamantly refusing to believe that what was happening was actually happening. Was he really…_kissing_ her?

He, her best friend, her brother, her other half? This couldn't be true, this _wasn't real_. But as much as she wanted to, Clary couldn't deny the kiss itself. Never had been kissed before, Clary was beyond overwhelmed simply by the act itself, let alone by who was actually kissing her.

But the moment Simon started to pull away, Clary knew one thing for certain: she sure as hell didn't want the kiss to end just yet. Reaching out and grabbing the collar of his shirt, Clary leaned back and pulled Simon onto her, crushing their lips together. A shot of pain went up from her ribs and she figured Simon accidentally elbowed her.

But that didn't matter; what did was the warmth of Simon's lips against hers, the taste of him–buttered popcorn that lightly coated his lips and Coke–and how he responded the moment she did. He was more aggressive now, placing his weight on both of his hands on either side of her face with his body pressing flush against hers.

Without pulling away, Clary's arms snaked their way up and wrapped themselves around the nape of his neck, tugging him closer. She was being irrational, she knew, but the more he gave her, the more she _craved_. She was insatiable with lust and couldn't focus on anything except Simon, and how right everything felt. With her heart soaring in her chest, her breath coming in jaggedly, Clary's fingers began to play with the collar of Simon's shirt, itching to yank it off…

"Uh…so is practice cancelled or…?"

Since Simon was on top, he was the first to look up and Clary watched as all the color in his red face drained. Clary, dropping her hands and using them to prop herself up, looked up to see Eric standing by the doorway with the rest of the guys gaping at them from behind him on the staircase.

"DUUUUUDEEE!" Danny–the bassist–laughed. "Way to finally _get_ some!"

"I told you they would hook up," Ryan–the guitarist–snorted. "They're like, joined at the hip or something."

But out of all the guys, Eric said nothing, just continued to stare in horror. Eric was Simon's neighbor and could possibly be considered his only true guy friend out of all the guys in the group, but the look on his face sent chills down Clary's spine. Why was he looking at them like that? Unconsciously, Clary touched a hand to her cheek.

"I can't believe you," Eric spat before turning around and shoving the other guys out of the way as he stormed out. Clary watched as he go, beyond confusion especially since the other guys were laughing their heads off.

"What's going on?" Clary asked, turning her eyes to Simon–who was in the middle of backing himself as far as he could possibly go into the other side of the couch.

"Clary, I swear," Simon blanched, "on my life that this wasn't…this whole thing wasn't because of the…I really wasn't thinking of it when we were…"

"Simon," she said warily. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"He's talking about," Danny panted, "the bet that we made."

"We wanted to know if he could kiss you," Ryan gasped, "before school came around and Eric said no because he figured Simon was too much of a good guy to put his feelings on you like that since you're his best friend."

"But apparently his feelings aren't the only thing he wanted to put on you," Danny finished, laughing all over again.

Clary couldn't believe her ears at the time and avoided Simon all summer until he cornered her in her mom's art store and demanded her to listen or else he wouldn't let her go. He explained that yes, he was a part of the bet after the guys told him about it but he was honestly rooting for Eric because that was how he felt–he loved Clary too much to let her go on a whim like that. But the time, the place, the setting…it all added up and one thing led to another…

On that very day, they made an oath to never date simply because it would only further complicate things. It was hard at first, to go back to normal and pretend nothing had happened, that everything was all right when on the inside, everything was complete chaos. So they avoided touching all together in the beginning and slowly, but surely, gained it back until those strange feelings disappeared and they could go back to being just friends again, the past in the past.

She knew going back to the norm after something like that would take time and plenty of patience with just a bit of restraint, but Simon was worth it, so together, they worked things out. What she didn't plan on was a certain arrogant blond boy with the face of an angel and the mind of the devil coming into her life shortly afterwards.

* * *

_The following school year…_

Eleventh grade, junior year–the supposed toughest year in a student's life because it's the last year you can have to redeem yourself from royally screwing yourself over in your previous years. The summer prior to back to school was tough enough as it was with the whole kiss-and-see issue, but Clary and Simon were still working on it and the guys seemed to have gotten over it, so maybe things were going to look up this year.

Or at least, Clary had hoped so. Since she preferred to sit in the back of the bus with Simon, she was the last one to get off–Simon had missed the bus as he always did the first week of school due to his inability to wake up early after waking up at noon every day for over two months.

Since she was in a particularly grouchy mood that day due to her older brother, Jonathan, because he used up all the hot water, she found her haven with music and had her ear buds plugged in so that she couldn't hear anything. That included the honking of the bus as a shiny black Jeep Commander swerved to park in front of the it, the driver unaware that Clary was standing right in front of the bus, bent over to pick up a book she had dropped.

That's when several things happened, so fast and so slow simultaneously so that while all of these things happened within the blink of an eye, Clary was still able to commit every detail to memory. The Jeep's driver, now realizing in horror that a girl was standing right where he was planning to park, was desperately spinning his steering wheel to avoid colliding into her at the same time a boy came out of nowhere and shoved Clary off the street, causing her to trip over the curb.

"_Hey!"_ Clary shrieked after she stumbled onto the floor, scraping her knee since she was wearing one of Simon's old band t-shirts and jean capri pants –but her knee was the least of her problems as she watched the Jeep nearly collide into another car as a result of avoiding a serious car accident with her.

"You okay?" the boy who had pushed her asked, sticking out his hand. Clary had begun collecting her things and looked up to gape at the boy standing before her; with the sunlight beaming down on him, his golden hair resembled a halo, his eyes bottomless ocher orbs set perfectly into a well-chiseled face that belonged to an angel. And for a second, Clary swore he was her own guardian angel considering what he had done for her.

"I would be better if you didn't push me," Clary grunted, dusting herself once she was standing with her free hand. "But I'm not really in the position or mood to debate on that one, so thanks, I guess."

"You guess?" the boy looked thoroughly amused, but his posture said otherwise. He stood with his back perfectly erect, his arms folded across his vast chest–the muscles visible even through his white t-shirt–and his strong legs positioned shoulder-width. She had only known one other boy who stood so confidently before her and it was Jonathan, but whereas he tried desperately to seem strong in front of her, _this_ boy didn't even seem to try. He just radiated arrogance, and Clary was quickly being sucked in.

"You must be new here," Clary said, plastering on her fakest smile. "Well, I'll give you some pointers: never talk back to certain teachers, especially Mrs. Lightwood. She won't hesitate to drop the F-bomb on your report card. Hodge is pretty awesome, but he's a really twitchy guy, so if you're not into really enthusiastic teachers, stick to Lightwood."

"That all?"

"One more thing," Clary smiled innocuously, taking a step closer. Stepping on the balls of her feet, she was able to whisper into his ear: "Don't ever cross me or I will make you regret being a boy."

* * *

**Jace: Always so feisty, even in the beginning.**

**Clary: I don't like being treated like a ditzy girl.**

**Jace: **_**"With the sunlight beaming down on him, his golden hair resembled a halo, his eyes bottomless ocher orbs set perfectly into a well-chiseled face that belonged to an angel." **_**Really? You certainly sound like the antithesis of "ditzy girl" to me. Really, you could've fooled me!**

**Simon: You better not mess with her, or she just might hurt you without a second thought.**

**Jace: After reading her description of me, I can't wait to see her attempt to 'hurt' such a 'well-chiseled face that belonged to an angel'.**

**Clary *flushing*: NIXIE!**

**Me *shrugging*: Your thoughts, my words.**

**Jace: Touché.**


	3. The Hook

**I am aware that this update is short, but the idea hit me so I drank up all the creative juices and used it all here! I hope you all like it. Also, just a quick note: This story switches not only perspectives (while still remaining in third person, so it's not that confusing), but also time as well. PAY CLOSE ATTENTION TO THE TIME STAMPS BECAUSE I WON'T GO IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER! I might flashback to two years ago during the summer, two years ago in May, etc., etc. So pay close attention to that!**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NONE OF THE SONGS, LYRICS, ALBUMS, CHARACTERS MENTIONED IN THIS STORY. Just the storyline…oh, and your souls :)**

_Revenge Is Sweeter (Than You Ever Were) by The Veronicas (diner scene; if you really must know, it was the lines I chose that I felt fit the scene perfectly. I know this song is about cheating, but just those words alone fit the mood, so don't think Jace is a cheater!)_

_The Story by Thirty Seconds To Mars (Jace looking back)_

_Speechless by The Veronicas (the bonfire scene–which is SO ADORABLE!)_

* * *

_Present Day…_

"_And I stood up for you_

'_Cause I believed you were the one._

_You had all the chances in the world_

_To let me know the know the truth,_

_What the hell is wrong with you?"_

"Interesting choice of venue," a familiar voice pulled Jace out from the deep recesses of his mind. He glanced up and smiled when he took in Clary wearing a normal graphic t-shirt with a pair of torn jeans splattered with paint. Seeing her today on the show wearing something so out-of-character for her made her look a ridiculous, considering how much shoulder skin she revealed to all of America. She should've stuck with her typical outfit for the interview, especially since it represented who she really was–just a typical teenager with a gift unheard of before.

"I like diners," he shrugged. "And Ellen's Stardust has the best double patty burgers in the known Universe. I'd argue unknown as well, but it's quite difficult to argue about something you aren't entirely sure of."

"Yeah, because other life forms out there waste their times flipping patties like us," she snorted, opening up her menu. Since they were seated in a booth in the corner, they had the best privacy away from the live show of waiters and waitresses aspiring to be on Broadway dancing on the center catwalk, but _hearing_ them was inevitable. And it's not like he was complaining; Clary used to work here and whenever she'd get her chance to sing, she blew the roof down. Broadway had _nothing_ on Clarissa Fairchild.

After ordering their food, Jace steepled his fingers in front of him, his elbows resting on the table and watched as Clary took in his white button down (two buttons undone on the top to allow breathing room, not that he didn't have an undershirt underneath) and worn jeans. Then he watched as her gaze flickered to the thickly woven white hemp bracelet he wore on his right wrist and felt his heart pound wildly as recognition played out just behind her eyes.

_Figures she would remember_, he mused, recalling the day himself.

* * *

_Two years ago, May…_

It all started off as a normal day, a pattern forming the longer Jace stayed in New York. Lasting for a whole nine months in one place was something of a novelty for him and his family, but it seemed as if his dad was starting to like New York and as always, Jace regretted not being more social since his arrival. If only people knew he was so stiff when it came to first impressions was because he was scared of the commitment: of getting to know people and getting to sleep over their houses, laying down roots only to have to rip them up with his bare, bloody hands just when he was starting to like a place.

Moving around used to be fun when he was younger, an adventure he used to look forward to. While his father kept getting relocated different places for business, Jace grew up all over the world, picking up on many languages and accents, never really fitting in anywhere.

The older he got, the more the regret and anger built up inside of him. Regret, for never getting to know anyone well enough to have friends or establish any serious connections of sorts and anger towards his father, for being the _only_ constant and an unwanted one at that.

Which was why Jace was getting antsy the longer they stayed in New York. They usually uprooted within the first six months max, but_ nine_ months? The last time he had been in one place for nine months was his mom's womb! And that was approximately about eighteen years ago.

Which was why getting used to having Alec over was something completely far-fetched to Jace–or at least, it was at first. The more Alec came over, the less of a novelty it became until it got to the point where each other knew the other's house better than their own. On numerous occasions, Jace found t-shirts Alec thought fell victim to Izzy's "self-designer cutting" phase and vise versa–except Jace didn't have a sister, or even a brother for that matter. Another reason why having another teenage boy in his house was a strange concept he couldn't wrap his mind around.

"So…what do you think?" Jace asked, spinning around in place once for Alec to examine his outfit. He was wearing a nondescript white t-shirt with basketball shorts and flip-flops, a comfy outfit that he figured would be okay for the first bonfire he was going to.

Alec paused the video game on TV long enough to shoot Jace a dirty look and say, "Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I have an impeccable taste when it comes to fashion. I like black, so I wear it all the time, okay?" Then after a moment, he added, "I'd wear a black thin button down with khaki shorts. It says sophisticated yet comfy–that is, if you want my honest opinion."

"Thanks," Jace said cheerfully, turning back to his closet, grabbing the change of clothes and stepping into his adjoining bathroom. A second later, he came out wearing the outfit Alec recommended and did the same model twirl for him.

"And you say I'm the gay fashionista here," he mumbled, shaking his head as he resumed the video game.

* * *

_*Musing Interruption* Present Day..._

"Here's your food," the waitress–Kaelie, according to her nametag–said as she bent over to set his food in front of him. She flashed him a wink and handed him a napkin with seven digits on it before leaving to service another table.

"God," Clary scowled, "when can we go somewhere without some girl tossing herself at you?"

"I'm drawing a blank on that one," he agreed, rolling his sleeves up as he prepared himself to eat. "I'm number one in America and I'm also quite known internationally as well."

"You might want to cut it there," Clary snickered. "Your head is getting so big, I'm surprised that it's still attached to your body."

"Hilarious," Jace simpered, throwing a wink before lifting the burger to his face. Clary narrowed her eyes and Jace reveled in the fact that after all this time, he still got under her skin. Thinking back to the bonfire, Jace could already remember what Clary's face looked like when it wasn't always fixed in a grimace or scowl whenever he was around, back when she was happier, when _he_ was happier…

* * *

_Two years ago, same night in May…_

Funny, how it was the same Jeep Commander that almost took her life away that Clary now clambered into, shutting the door behind her with Alec behind the wheel and Jace in the passenger seat. Looking up at the rearview mirror because of a feeling he was being watched, he locked eye contact with the petite redhead. Of course, she didn't turn away, always ready for a challenge, until Izzy called for her attention and even so, Jace could see the irritation in her eyes before she turned them to Izzy.

Clary and Jace hadn't exactly been on much speaking terms ever since the hero encounter because even though he was in her grade–moving from a foreign country to America left him a year behind even though he was a few months younger than Alec–they didn't have any classes together. Sure, they acknowledged each other in the hallways and even teased each other when the Lightwood siblings–Clary's "portal" to the girl world being Izzy and Alec being Jace's only good friend–were around each other, but that was about the extent of their relationship. Which displeased Jace.

Something about Clary had caught his attention on the first moment he spotted her moments before death and had the Jeep not almost ran her over, Jace would've tried to find a way to talk to her, just to hear her speak.

He knew it was very weird to react this way basing off his experience with foreign girls from all over the world–none of them he took seriously, just dalliances–and ever since then, he made it a mission to get to know Clary better, if not to date her, than to just be her friend.

This was why Alec "persuaded" Izzy to invite her Chemistry lab partner to a bonfire that Magnus Bane–Alec's boyfriend–was holding at his exclusive beach house. Hence, why Clary was fidgeting slightly in her chair, feeling more out of place than a lamb in a lion's den.

Clary wished Simon was with her, but since he wasn't invited, Clary couldn't bring him regardless of how much better it would've been for her to have at least _one_ familiar face at this party. She'd never even heard of Magnus Bane until that moment, and even so, she had a feeling he didn't associate himself with the type of people she knew–band geeks, artists, thespians…

So she just sat back, pretended to be interested in whatever Izzy was blathering on about while occasionally glancing at the rearview mirror to see Jace staring at her with gleaming eyes. At least one person seemed to care about whether or not she existed, which made her smile a little. Maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

_Two years ago, same night in May later on..._

"Where'd you get that bracelet from?" Jace asked, gesturing to the white rope-like bracelet that encircled Clary's left wrist. She had been fiddling with it whenever her right hand was free and it bothered him to the point of frustration.

Clary had been staring in marvel at the orange-light green tipped fire that danced in place with the stone barricades preventing it from lashing out and tore her gaze from it to stare at Jace. "Mmm?"

"That," he said, gesturing at her bracelet.

"Oh," Clary flushed. "I made it when I was younger, in elementary school. I think I was in second grade? Anyway, it's really lame but it's kind of like a trust bracelet. When you weave it, you're supposed to weave in a strand of your hair, a bit of saliva–which isn't that hard considering at some times you need to hold the inner strings with your teeth and you drool on it as a result–and a little blood. Another task not too hard to accomplish since weaving can cause your fingers to bleed with the friction. Once it has all the components, you give the bracelet to the one person you trust the most outside of your family."

"But your still wearing yours," Jace said slowly, not sure if voicing his thoughts was acceptable. He completely understood the whole trust issue thing; he was the epitome of a child's life ruined by trust issues, so finding someone else who might be the same way felt…like a relief. Like he wasn't the only one who went through things like this all the time.

Glancing back down at the bracelet, Clary sighed. Looking up at Jace, she smiled ruefully and shrugged–she was trying too hard to act as if nothing bothered her, but Jace saw right through her. "I guess I just haven't found the right person to give it to yet."

"I understand." And he did. More than she probably knew. And when Clary smiled, one that was genuine and comprehensive, Jace knew that she knew he understood, which in turn, made him smile.

* * *

**Izzy: I was just a "portal" in all of this? Oh **_**come on**_**!**

**Alec: Well, I'm not exactly "close" with Clary.**

**Izzy: But you're–**

**Alec: Okay, that's just HORRIBLE. I'm gay so I must know clothes, I'm gay so I must be girly, blah blah blah. Well, for your information, I **_**don't**_** know the difference between a Prada or Louie nor do I care! And I like black as a color, so judge me all you want.**

**Clary: I honestly think that's the most you've ever said…ever.**

**Jace: I second that.**

**Simon: Aww, you guys went to a party without me? Really cool, guys. Really.**

**Clary: Well, none of you guys know each other yet!**

**Me: Be patient, young grasshopper. Good things come to those who–**

**Simon: Do the wave, I know.**

***Everyone stares***

**Simon:…er, what?**

**Jace: Anyone want to tell him? Because honestly, I'm not even going to bother.**


	4. The Bridge

**Writer's block plus school work plus stress equals delayed updates :( I apologize, mainly because I couldn't get this story off my mind and I wanted to write it so badly, only to have this come out as a result. Mehh…Hopefully this little filler satisfies you all? Please rate and review! It keeps the story going :D**

_Songs:_

_Take Me Away by Dear Juliet (this was basically my mood the entire chapter, so deal with it!)_

_

* * *

_

"Are you just going to stare at me all day long," Clary asked, "or are we actually going to start talking business?" She shifted uncomfortably under Jace's stare and had to fix her eyes onto her burger to concentrate on eating.

"Sorry," he smiled ruefully. "I just find myself getting lost in my thoughts more often nowadays." Suddenly, his face cleared of any emotion, his tone all business-like the moment he opened his mouth again. "Your performance tonight was pretty good–no, scratch that, _very _good."

"Uh, thanks?"

"And I have the utmost confidence in myself when I say that I believe _Garroway_ will make it very far in Hollywood," he went on, completely unabashed. He knew that she was immediately referring to the times he had turned up at their practices after school, tossing his bag on the floor and sitting on an abandoned bean bag as she danced to the music. "And just for future references, the name is still _Garroway_, right?"

"Right," she confirmed, recalling the bookstore they snatched the name from. Her mom's best friend, Luke, owned it and it happened to be the place where Clary, Simon and Eric met Danny and Ryan–they both walked in complaining that Shakespeare came up with the "most epic band names ever that no one even tries to use", which immediately caught the then trio's attention.

"It's pretty catchy," he said with the faintest of smiles. "I can picture it now: _Garroway _opening for _Paramore_!"

"Ha," Clary snorted. "Now you be talkin' dream speak, foo'." Translation: _You're crazy_.

She didn't mean to make the reference, but the moment she did, the memory assaulted her, forcing her to re-live the moment it happened.

* * *

_Two years ago, a few hours before the bonfire in May…_

"Thanks so much," Clary wheezed as she clambered in, barely inside the car before the sliding doors _swished_ shut. She gazed up and almost rolled her eyes when she realized who had held his arm out to stop the subway doors from closing shut so that she could come in.

"Oh please," Jace laughed, "the honor is all mine." Clary never liked boys who had a rude attitude because, well, they were rude. And Jace was, well, the epitome of a rude boy. But Clary couldn't even begin to conjure a good enough reason for why her stomach fluttered every time she was near him.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he had saved her on the first day of school. It was possible and even after the incident, she couldn't quell the disappointment she felt rise up when she realized they had no classes together. Still, she knew he was bad news, so keeping a good enough distance was key in order to avoid something completely irrational from happening.

"So what's a girl like you doing in a city like this all alone?" Jace asked once the subway lurched forward, causing Clary to knock backwards into him since no seats were available and she was forced to stand in front of him.

Rendered breathless the moment he reached out and steadied her, Clary had to distract herself to keep from doing anything she would regret later. "I have places to be, Wayland. And it's not of any concern to you, so I wouldn't fret about it, or you might get some nasty wrinkles on that face of yours."

Jace made a face. "Cute."

Right then, the train lurched to a stop, causing Clary to drop her sketchpad and some of her pencils. She swore under her breath, hurrying to pick up all her supplies so that she could get off her stop, when a bronze wrinkled hand came into view, holding some of the pencils she'd miss in front of her.

Clary straightened to see an ancient-looking woman with hair as wiry and gray as steel wool and with wrinkled leathery skin the color of a brand new penny. "Thanks," Clary smiled, making to receive the pencils when the lady took her off guard by lashing out with her other hand and trapping Clary by the wrist in a surprisingly vice-like grip.

Yanking her closer, the old woman opened her mouth to speak and Clary had to stop breathing all together when the rancid smell of smoke came out. "You be wit' da gold boy?"

"Uh, excuse me? I'm sorry, but can I just have my–"

"He be da one, sistah," the lady cackled, her face fixed in a rictus that was more of a grimace than a smile. "Da very one."

"I'm not dating him," Clary snorted impatiently. "Nor do I plan on it. Now can I please have my pencils back?" She glanced up to see Jace holding his arm out yet again, to keep the doors open. A look of impatience and irritation was clear on his face.

"Lady, you're _crazy_, can I _please_ go?"

What the elderly lady did next didn't surprise Clary as much as the very words she drawled the moment she appeased to Clary's demand: "Now you be talkin' the dream speak, foo'."

"What, in dear God's name, was _that_ about?" Jace asked once they were out of the subway and walking around the blocks aimlessly.

"No clue, but do you have any idea of what she could've meant by what she said?"

Jace shrugged. "I would assume she's just insane and not look into it. But you still haven't told me what she said before that, and I'm assuming it's about me or else you would've told me about it in the first place."

_Damn logic_, Clary mentally swore. _Why did he have to be so damn good at just about _everything_?_ "It's none of your business."

Jace stopped walking and Clary had to backtrack to reach him. "Oh, I believe it certainly is my business since it pertains to me. I don't want to have to force it out of you, but if you're going to be stubborn…"

Clary couldn't believe her ears. "Are you…are you _seriously_ threatening me?"

Jace stuck out his hand, palm up, and wiggled his fingers menacingly. "No, it's a promise. You have five seconds. Five…four…"

"It's none of your–"

"Three-two-one!" Jace finished, springing into action. Wrapping an arm around her back, he had her pressed up against him and tickled her side with the other hand. Clary let out a peal of laughter, tossing her head back as she desperately shoved against him, but Jace wasn't having it.

"Stuh-stuh-_stop!_" Clary gasped, barely able to breathe. How did he know _exactly_ where to tickle her to elicit her wildest reactions? It was scary accurate and torturous, causing her to go over the edge. She desperately wanted him to stop, but the look in his eye told her he wasn't quite satisfied yet.

"Make me," he teased, leaning in closer so that his hot breath hit her in the face. She immediately tensed up, the memory of Simon kissing her coming to mind. Jace could tell by the tension that Clary hadn't expected him to be so invasive and felt a little guilty, but didn't let it get to him had the consequences of his actions of not been getting to be closer to Clary.

God, she was _beautiful_. How could she not see it? With a splatter of freckles that dusted across her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose, wide shining emeralds for eyes, full lips and an upturned nose, she radiated beauty–and that wasn't just it either. Her personality spoke volumes about her, causing Jace to fall more in "like" for her with every passing day.

"Please?" Clary rasped, finally able to breathe. It took every ounce of her energy to muster those words, and the moment she did, she regretted it because he complied for once–the only time she ever wanted him to disobey and be an ass about it.

"So," Jace prompted after walking a block beside Clary without saying a word. "You never answered my question."

"Which one?"

He tossed her a smile. "What brings you to the city?"

She blushed, embarrassed she forgot he asked. "I'm looking for inspiration."

"Pardon?" he smirked. "Inspiration?"

"Yeah," Clary shrugged, trying to pull of nonchalance. "The city is crawling with it, so why not?"

He figured she had a point considering how many talented people came from or went to the city and nodded in agreement. "So what kind of art medium are you into?"

"I like singing," Clary flushed, feeling as exposed to him as if she was stripped down to just her panties–_that_ vulnerable. "I also like drawing and I put the two together to come up with my work."

_Interesting_.

"But enough about me," Clary added hastily. "What are you doing here?" He frowned, wishing he held the upper hand so that he could find out more about her. She fascinated him in every way possible…but what did she think of _him_?

"I like people watching," he admitted, unashamed of the confession. "It's interesting to see how people react when presented with certain circumstances. For instance, the look of horror on your face when you spotted me. Just for future references, if you really hate someone, there are other ways to express it than with a look of unadulterated disgust. People like me have feelings too–we're just better at hiding them."

Clary's face burned up, causing Jace's heart to beat faster. So he really _did_ have that much of an influence on the redhead. _Interesting…_

"I wasn't–I didn't," Clary sputtered. After a quick pause, she smiled ruefully at him with both hands held in submission. "Okay, I'll admit, I wasn't too pleased at seeing you today. But I have my reasons, understand that."

"Now you be talkin' the dream speak, foo'," Jace laughed. "And now you owe me two, just so you know."

"Owe you two what?"

Jace grinned, a cross between innocence and mischief; Clary felt her heart pick up double time. "Two favors. One for saving your life, the other for acting as if I were the ugliest damn thing you'd ever laid your eyes on today."

Clary's jaw dropped. "You're actually keeping_ count_? I…I can't believe you!"

Jace snorted. "And you weren't? Tsk, tsk. If I were you, I wouldn't let the fact that I owed someone get to me–I'd be much too focused on not freaking out because now the person I owe a favor to is entitled to make me their personal slave."

She halted mid-step and folded her arms across her chest, eyes narrowing into angry slits. "I plead the fifth."

"Whoa, whoa there! First off, I'm pretty certain that you can't use that out of court. Secondly, it's not like I was planning on making you do something possibly incriminating."

Clary pursed her lips in contemplation–which drove Jace over the edge–and finally nodded. "Fine. What are the favors?"

"I'm not planning on using them yet," he smirked. "But might I make a suggestion for you?"

"Depends."

"Come to the bonfire," he said in his persuasive tone–the one he saved for women who needed a little more "convincing" to get his way. He figured Clary wasn't the type who fell for good looks and a deep voice, but it didn't hurt to use those aspects of him to his advantage whenever he could. "It'll be fun, I promise."

From the surprise written on Clary's face, Jace figured he caught her off guard with that. Izzy must've forgotten to mention that Alec and Jace were going as well–something that would've possibly either lowered or increased the chances of her attendance.

But if Jace could've read her mind, he would've known that from the moment he saved her life on the first day of school, she would do anything he told her to do–if not for the fact that he did said task, for the fact that she had a feeling that their relationship would take a turn for the better in that moment he became her guardian angel.

Pursing her lips in contemplation, Clary finally smiled. "I'll consider it."

* * *

_Present day…_

Jace noticed the slight smile on Clary's face after she said those words and sighed at the memory. Those days felt like they took place eons ago instead of just two years. But he couldn't dwell on the past now; he was in the midst of making a possible deal with Clary–but it was just too damn hard to concentrate when the once love of his life stood before him and acted as if she barely knew him.

"Would you rather consult your band first before making any decisions?" he prompted, only to fill the void of silence. The distance between them was only a table, but it might as well have been millions of miles away. And it was there because he had put them there…

"Yeah," Clary smiled slightly. "I think I should."

* * *

**Simon: The whole building up approach is annoying me.**

**Clary: Why? I like the way this story is being told.**

**Simon: But that's because you get to relive memories while I'm barely being mentioned! It's not fair.**

**Jace: Well, I second Clary's opinion so deal with it for now.**

**Izzy: Don't bully Simon like that!**

**Jace: So you'd rather I "bullied" you then?**

**Izzy: …Never mind. I didn't say anything at all!**

***Simon stares at Izzy***

**Simon: I can't believe you!**

**Izzy: Well, I have to deal with him a lot more than you do, so I'd rather be on better terms with him now than later.**

**Clary: Since when? I haven't read anything about you in this story yet!**

**Izzy: Keyword being 'yet'.**

**Alec: Oh boy…**


	5. The Chorus

**Okay, so I feel really bad because I thought I had updated this story recently and apparently I didn't so WOW, I feel like a JERK! So expect this update to be a little longer than usual :/ again, my apologies. Jeesh.**

**P.S. No songs because I couldn't find any songs for this chapter (I sort of lost track of the songs I had originally thought of…and I'm too lazy to think of songs to put on here…again, my apologies…)**

* * *

_Present Day, Simon's basement…_

"He _what?_" Simon squealed, hopping off the three-piece L-shaped couch, causing Izzy to fall backwards.

"You heard me right," Clary announced, glad that she finally had the entire band's attention instead of the stupid glowing TV screen. "Jace wants to help us get famous. Basically."

Izzy shot her former friend a questioning look–she was Jace's personal makeup artist and knew him better than anyone else because they also went back a few years due to her brother being his best friend/producer. So hearing him do something as big as this without her knowledge of it first was well, a novelty. Something she wasn't so sure she approved of, especially because of the Fray/Wayland history.

"After all these years"–Simon was in hysterics now–"he's _finally _paying us off! FINALLY!"

Clary smiled as the entire band jumped up from their seats–another novelty because they never left their seats unless they had to go to the bathroom or had to get up to get more food. But on the inside, Simon's words were still ringing loud and proud: _after all these years, he's _finally _paying us off!_

Yes, he had hurt her and in turn, hurt the rest of the group whenever she showed up to practice only to leave after being there for five minutes because just being in the same room Jace used to be in to watch the group play as a whole was too painful for her to endure. But she never liked to dwell on those memories for too long, because she feared it would only bring on a relapse of those very real feelings.

"Yeah," she said absentmindedly while the rest of the group whooped in celebration. "I guess so…"

* * *

Later that night after a quick meal whipped up by Jonathan–he was back from being overseas and while he was fighting in the Middle East, he had picked up a few cooking skills–Clary washed up, bid her parents and Jonathan a good night and went to bed.

Pulling her comforter up to her chin, she turned to face the empty space on the left side on the bed, which was empty at the moment.

But it hadn't always been that way; there was a time where it would usually be occupied by a certain blond boy that had the ability to render her speechless just by being near her. Thinking of him brought back a flood of memories that knocked down her weak attempt at levees, but instead of fighting the river, she let it flow out, drowning her in the process.

It wasn't as hard to fight in the morning because she usually had other things on her mind like deadlines for new songs, but there were certain times she saved specially to think about him. For instance, nightfall, where no one could see the tears that silently raced down her cheek before landing on the pillow beneath her head; or those rare moments where she couldn't come up with any inspiration and allowed herself to peel back the massive scab holding the painful memories back, only an inch or so, to get something started.

Sighing, Clary closed her eyes to fight off the tears and let the images flickering behind her eyelids take over.

* * *

_Two years ago, mid-June…_

"Jace?" Clary guessed, almost one hundred percent certain that the hands covering her eyes from behind belonged to the blond boy.

"How'd you know?" he whispered into her ear, then placed a gentle kiss on the sensitive skin behind her ear lobe. Lifting his hands away from her face, he watched as she spun around and quickly dropped her books to wrap her arms around the nape of his neck.

"Because no girl or boy has perfect hands like you," she giggled. "Except for your calluses, that is."

"This is true," Jace agreed, leaning in to kiss the tip of her nose, causing Clary to squeal in delight. "If only achieving true perfection such as I wasn't such a task."

"Then we'd all be like you and all your assy-ness," Clary snorted, pulling away to collect her books. "And speaking of assy-ness, are you free tonight?"

"Yes, but how is that in any way relevant to assy-ness?" Jace chuckled.

"Because that's what I _don't_ want to see tonight when you come over to meet my parents," Clary smirked, her smile growing bigger when Jace blanched.

"You know I don't do well with first impressions," Jace rasped, uncharacteristically nervous.

"Yes, I know," Clary sighed. "But if we want this to work out, you've got to at least acknowledge they exist. Plus, even if you don't listen to me and somehow manage to get my parents to hate your guts, at least you put the effort forward to get to know them before they spurned you."

Leaning in closer and pulling Clary closer to him by her elbows since her hands were full of books, Jace brushed his lips against her cheek. "And this is exactly why you drive me crazy, you witty genius you."

_Later that night…_

"Mom!" Clary shouted from her bedroom. "What did you do with my green top?"

Jocelyn walked into her daughter's room massaging her temples and overall, appearing to be under heavy stress. "What I typically do with dirty clothes, Clarissa. I washed it, why?"

The moment her mom said her full name, Clary knew she should probably soften her tone. Rarely did Jocelyn use her name like that, and it never once meant a good thing. "Oh…well…um, I can't find it."

Dropping her hands, Jocelyn rolled her eyes at her daughter. Without a word, she walked over to the walk-in closet without even bothering to flip on the light switch, then came out a second later with the green halter top in her hands. "You really need to look better before you even think about calling my name every five seconds."

"Sorry," Clary apologized, plopping onto her bed after retrieving the shirt from her mom. "It's just…I'm flustered right now. I've been dating Jace for almost a month now and you guys are going to meet him and I'm worried that he's going to be a–"

"Going to be a what?"

Clary caught herself a second later and smiled. "Going to be a nervous wreck of course. Meeting the parents is a milestone in any relationship, so I figure he's not really going to be his typical self."

"Oh?" Jocelyn sat down next to her daughter.

"Mhm," Clary continued, taking advantage of this opportunity. "Totally. He's the kind of guy who acts like an ass sometimes to make up for his insecurities. So don't really think too hard of how he acts tonight since he's not going to be himself, okay? I mean, it took me a while of knowing him before I even considered dating him and well…so far it's been good, great even."

"Okay," Jocelyn laughed, pulling her daughter in for a hug and planting a kiss on her forehead. When she pulled back, Clary tried to stifle her laughter when she saw her mom grimace. "And next time you might want to point out where he kisses you because I prefer to not taste lime and aftershave on you."

"Okay, mom," Clary giggled as she watched her mom leaving, not nearly as nervous as she had been before.

* * *

_Present Day…_

Jace was in the midst of dreaming about a certain redhead when the shrill tone of his phone vibrating stirred him. Blindly shooting out his arm to search for the phone, it took up until the second ring to find it before Jace hit 'ANSWER' and placed it against his ear.

"Wake up, sunshine," a vaguely familiar voice commanded from the other end.

"And if I don't?" he shot back, easily irritated by the girl talking to him. How dare she talk back to him in such a disrespectful way! Did she not know whom she was talking to?

"Well, for one thing, the neighbors will think you hired some kind of sick early morning booty call and call the paparazzi. From there, you can only imagine how completely out of control things will wind up being."

"Nice talking to you too, Clary," he chuckled. "I'll be down in a sec. Is anyone else with you?"

"Brooooooo!"

"Dude, tell him I say hey!"

"How often do you think he gets booty calls this early anyway?"

Those three distinctly male voices clued Jace in that she had brought the rest of her band in, which slightly disappointed him. Yes, it implied she was taking his deal, but was it necessary to bring the entire band with her too? Apparently she couldn't face him alone–not yet anyway.

After he hung up, he stretched out for a bit, then made his bed as quickly as he could manage before picking out a pair of jeans and a grey t-shirt, laced up his shoes and locked his bedroom door behind him. Taking the stairs two at a time, he reached the front door in no time flat. Sucking in a nervous breath, he swung open the door and anticipated the worst.

What he should've anticipated was the way his body reacted the moment he took in Clary; she was wearing tight jean leggings, her favorite pair of silver Doc Martens she had gotten a while ago and a long sheer tank top that had slits running down its back, revealing a _lot_ of skin–beautiful, flawless, porcelain skin that he yearned to touch. If only the rest of her band wasn't there…

Averting his eyes to face Simon, Jace fought the urge to roll his eyes when he took in the wide eyes and fake smile. Back in the day, the little nerd hated Jace's guts from the very start. He figured it was because he came into the picture a few months after Clary rejected him and couldn't blame the guy for acting on the defense; Jace didn't exactly exude the "loyal boyfriend" vibe. But now that Jace had the upper hand, the nerd was a sucker for him, which made him no better than any other person he encountered during his off-time that tried to act "sycophantic" around him.

"Lewis," Jace said with a nod of acknowledgement. "Eric, Danny, Ryan. Nice to see you all again." He knew his words had hurt Clary, but not because of what he had said. No, it was because of what he _didn't_ say.

"My brotha!" Danny laughed, pounding Jace's fists with his own. "How's it Mr. Big Shot?"

"Yeah, and the babes!" Ryan chimed in. "Dude, you must be like, _stacked_."

"Totally," Eric agreed. "Stacked tenfold!"

"Someone's very loquacious today," Jace observed, smiling as the confused expression was mirrored in four out of five faces. Except for a redhead, who just kept smiling at him. Thinking of her, he shifted his attention to her. "So what are you all here for?"

Straightening out her posture, Clary put on her determined face as she said, "To make a deal with you. We've talked about this for a while since the show yesterday and we all agreed that we want you to be our new band manager."

Clary watched as Jace kept his face impassive but knew somewhere hidden deep inside of him, a thousand thoughts were crossing his mind. She knew because she had gone through the same exact thing the moment Simon proposed it. She hadn't the slightest idea what business proposition Jace had for them, but she hoped that with his help, they'd be able to make it big–even if he just found another person to be their manager and promoted their sound.

"You want _me_," Jace repeated slowly, "to be your band manager?"

"Yeah," Simon said warily. "So, uh, is that a yes or no?"

Jace folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the doorframe. Unable to help herself, Clary analyzed his new position and figured he was still be cautious about the offer, but wasn't exactly "uninterested"–well, not yet anyway.

"Depends on what it entails for me," Jace shrugged. "What would it require for me to do, what power do I gain in return, et cetera."

"Can we talk about this inside?" Clary interrupted, startling Jace. "I, uh, think it'd be easier to talk about in privacy is all."

Jace stared at her for a second, taking in the flush on her cheeks, the way she avoided his eyes when she spoke and how her right hand crossing her waist and rubbing the elbow of her left arm. She wasn't comfortable making the request, he could tell, but she had a point.

"Fine," he smirked, stepping aside to let the band in, "come on in."

* * *

_One year ago, late October…_

"You were really awesome tonight," Jace commented, as he walked alongside Clary from practice at Danny's house, which was only a few blocks away from hers. "Really emotional performance and all."

"I don't find that hard to believe," she scoffed, kicking a rock that was in front of her. She had her fists balled up into fists in the pockets of her favorite black wool trench coat and brought her hands closer to her sides to keep the jacket closed since one button was missing.

"Something's the matter, I know," he said, sounding somber.

"Yeah, well, I figured you'd know since all you do is watch me sing."

He stopped mid-stride and raised an eyebrow at her. "And what's that supposed to mean with that tone?"

"What tone?" she challenged, sounding innocuous. But she knew he knew something was up–they'd be dating for about a year and four months now and he was able to read her like a book much easier than she reading him.

"The one that's inflecting your speech," he shot back. "Which leads me to believe there's an underlying message to what you're saying. Hence, why I know something is up. Now are you going to tell me or try to be enigmatic and leave me in the dust?"

Clary weighed her options–if she told him why she was upset, they'd end up talking about it and if she were to be honest with herself, she preferred to save the conversation for another time when she wasn't stressing out about the upcoming gig they had at the school dance. But if she tried to be "enigmatic", she would just be falling into his trap anyway, and more than anything she hated giving him more of a reason to have a big ego.

She sighed, resigned. "I'm stressed, all right? And no, I'm not trying to leave it at that. I'm just…I need time to set my priorities straight and I'd really appreciate it if you didn't try to push my buttons and get me to talk, okay? I'll open up later, when I'm done being this high-strung."

Jace studied her for a second; he had a feeling that something was taking a toll on her from the very start. Gone was the carefree girl he had fallen for last year, gone was the smile that used to send shivers down his spine and it killed him inside. He rarely saw that glimmer of happiness in her eyes anymore–even when she _performed_, which was her ultimate haven. Something was bothering her; no, something was _killing_ her on the inside and having to witness it all killed him inside as well.

"All right," he shrugged, shoving the blade deeper into his gut. "I'll wait until then."

* * *

_One year ago, Christmas day in December at the Fairchild Residency…_

"OH. MY. _GOD_!"

Clary watched as Izzy–Jace's best friend Alec's sister that was her age–scream as she threw herself onto Simon, covering him with kisses. Clary felt like gagging but kept the bile back and instead focused on the other guys as they hooted in delight at Simon's present for Izzy: a lingerie French Maid set from Victoria's Secret. And by the look of horror on Simon's face, Clary assumed that out of the three boxes of presents he'd gotten for his girlfriend, _that_ one was the one he wanted to give in private.

"I love it," Izzy squealed, finally pulling herself away long enough to allow Simon to breathe. "It's _so_ me!"

Clary didn't even have to look at the guys to see them snickering and making sick jokes beside her. She made eye contact with her brother, Jonathan, over her friends' heads and smiled when he shook his head as he laughed. He was back for good since he had gotten shot in the thigh near the femoral vein, which meant he wasn't going back to war anytime soon and Clary quickly learned to appreciate his presence after he'd been gone for over a year.

She had even gotten him a parody cookbook for a present since he'd taken up quite a liking for it and in exchange, he gave her his dog tags that she promised she would always wear for as long as she could. Reaching up now, she touched the warm piece of metal around her neck and smiled.

"You still haven't opened my gift," Jace reminded her, pulling her out of her thoughts. When she turned her attention back to him, he held up a box that was easily triple the size of her head and she felt her throat close up. All she had given him was a brand new high definition video camera since he mentioned a few times how he wanted to be an actor or something in that field when he was older, which only made her realize how selfish she was because he knew so much about _her_ personal life and she didn't know much about _his_ personal life.

"Oh _Jace,_" she sighed, taking up the box and setting it in between her legs. "Way to make me feel like dirt compared to my gift-giving skills."

He grinned at her. "I had more time to think about your gift, and besides, it's the thought that counts. I promise to use your camera every moment I can, especially since Alec says we could get more viewers for our show if we switched to HD so thanks for that!"

"If you're trying to make me feel better, you aren't really helping."

Pulling her in for a quick embrace, Jace placed a quick kiss on her forehead and pulled back so that he had the perfect view of her reaction as she opened the present. He watched as she studied the golden wrapped present before pulling at the bright yellow ribbon that he spent hours trying to tie just right for her.

Clary's hands were shaking; she couldn't help it since the anticipation to know what he got her for Christmas was killing her. Swallowing a deep breath, she slipped her finger underneath a loose flap and flicked it open, tearing off the paper neatly. It was almost three quarters of the way off when she finally realized what was underneath, which caused her to gasp.

Not caring about the rest of the paper, she tore it off and stared with her mouth hanging open at the box before her. The box itself was non-descript, but the moment she lifted the top off, she felt her heart sink and soar out of her chest at the same time.

Nestled carefully in tissue paper was a beautiful stainless steel microphone that had an intricate swirling pattern on the handle and, upon closer inspection, her name written in a beautiful script:

_Clarissa Fairchild _

But what touched her the most were the words inscribed below it, encircling the microphone like a band:

_To understand her–you gotta know it deep inside_

_Hear every thought–see every dream_

_And give her wings–when she wants to fly._

Clary swore, cursing the beautiful boy for knowing everything about her. It was only once had he heard her sing that song outside of rehearsal while strumming her guitar. It was after their first fight, and she was a complete mess. Playing guitar and singing–besides being essential to her life–soothed her since it required no other assistance and she could truly revel in the moment alone, losing herself in the beauty of it all.

But then after she played the last chord, letting it strum out loud and proud, she opened her eyes to see him standing there, soaking wet from head-to-toe–which implied he had ran in the torrential rain to her house from his since his parents had taken the car when they went out–watching her with such an intensity, it intimidated her.

They made up quickly after that, but she never thought he'd remember that from over a year ago. And that was what got to her, causing her to feel even worse for just spending forty bucks for an HD camera while he actually spent the time and money on her present.

"Jace," she cried, slamming the lid closed. Turning to face him, she screamed, "I can't _believe _you!"

Jace watched in disbelief as Clary stormed off and immediately got up without a second thought to follow after her. What had he said or done that ticked her off like that? Was it the gift, or the engraving? Sure, he had had his doubts about getting that particular lyric engraved on the mic, but to him, it meant more than just a pretty quote. It was the time he had heard her sing it–the way she had sung it with her eyes closed as she strummed the guitar softly while swaying in place, her voice so raw with emotion that tears brimmed his eyes just from watching.

But he honestly didn't think that was the reason she had stormed off; no, it had something to do with the underlying stress that had been keeping her high-strung since senior year started up.

"Clary," he yelled, knocking on her bedroom door a split second after it slammed shut before he got a chance to catch it open. "Clary, open up. _Please_, Clare Bear."

"_NO!"_

Running a hand through his hair, Jace exhaled to calm himself down. Then, he opened his mouth and began to sing: "

_I'm in love with a girl I hate,_

_She enjoys pointing out every bad thing about me…"_

But before he could continue, the door swung open to reveal a frizzy-haired, puffy-eyed version of Clary–a version of her he'd never seen before. Yes, he had seen her at her worst–well, her "then" worst–when she had twisted her ankle and he had to carry her to the hospital after convincing her that she couldn't walk on it. Of course, she had tried to prove him wrong as always, but ended up hurting herself even more and didn't even bother fighting him off as he scooped her into her arms and ran for the two of them.

This worst ate that worst for breakfast. Clary's shirt was stained with what looked like tears and possible snot and her makeup was beyond repair. But underneath it all, she was still his beautiful, strong yet fragile other half that he loved for who she was, not how she dressed.

"Clary," he said softly, hurt clear in his voice. He took a step closer and for a second, saw the possibility of her slamming the door on him flash behind her eyes before she sighed and stepped aside, allowing him in. Once he was inside her room, he pinned his back against the door and folded his arms across his chest.

"I'm not going until you tell me what's going on," he said gravelly. "I'm serious, Clary. Something has been bothering you since school started up and to be honest, you aren't very good at pretending. You have to tell me what's bothering you sooner or later because…"

"Because what?" she challenged, her eyes watering up again.

Even though he hated it, the way she got to him broke him down and made him weak–which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, except in this case it was. Sighing in frustration, he dropped his arms and pulled her closer, resting his head on her shoulder as he smoothed her hair out in a soothing gesture. "Because there's nothing I wouldn't do to keep you in my life and seeing you like this kills me, Clary. You have no idea."

"Jace, I-I didn't mean to!" Clary started, but Jace shushed her as he slowly walked her to her bed and sat her down next to him. He let her cry a little more without any question, keeping up the soft touches to soothe her the entire time and didn't push her. He simply waited; he had waited for four months already, so what did a measly few minutes mean to him?

"I-I'm scared," she whispered, breaking the silence with her cracked voice. She looked up at him with her bloodshot green eyes and he felt something deep inside of him snap as he took in her misery. Was he the reason for her distress? If so, why?

He suddenly hated himself in that moment; he had no idea what he had done to upset her, but it had to be him or else she wouldn't have kept it so secretive from him for so long. He pulled his hands away from her and felt them tighten into fists, but he focused his sight on Clary in order to keep him in the here and now. She was finally speaking up to him, and he wanted to make sure he caught every bit of her words to leave no room for confusion.

"I'm so scared, Jace," she whimpered.

"Of what?" He amazed himself by how gentle his voice was, even though underneath the calm façade, he was a bomb waiting to detonate.

"Of the future. Of _our_ future," she breathed. "Of the possibilities–all of them, not just of us being together."

Jace froze. He had nothing and everything to do with why she was upset? "What got you thinking of that?"

She shrugged. "Applying to colleges, talking about them, reading up about them…all that 'good' stuff. It's just, I look at my grades and I already know yours and I compared them and…Jace, I don't think we'll be able to go to the same colleges."

"But how…?"

"Jace," Clary said, looking him dead in the eye. "You're a thousand times more brilliant that I'll ever be. I might get good grades, but you're practically a prodigy. Even _Harvard_ offered you a scholarship! The best I could get into is Tisch and that's because of the music program–and I'm not even sure they'll accept me because I haven't done anything remotely outstanding in life and–"

"Clary," Jace chuckled, pulling her in closer to kiss her on the top of her head. "Has anyone told you lately that you've completely fallen off your rocker?"

"Maybe a couple of people," she admitted, allowing herself to enjoy the feel and smell of Jace to preserve it in her memory. Then, when she was somewhat satisfied–because she couldn't ever be satiated when it came to Jace–she pulled away and made sure to keep his eye contact. It was key to keep her grounded to what she _had_ to say–also, he had the prettiest ocher eyes she ever thought possible.

"But Jace," she insisted, "I'm not even lying! You're brilliant and you'd have to be an idiot to throw away something like Harvard for NYU–and that's to say if I even get accepted there first."

"So I won't throw it away," he sighed. "Clary, you're over thinking things and–"

"And what, Jace? It's turning me into some kind of psychopath? Sure, it is! I'm going mad just talking about this, but you've got to hear me out for the Angel's sake! I'm just being pragmatic, okay? If you go away and I stay here in New York, it'll be long distance and how often do those types of things works?"

He had to admit, she had a point. He was a man with needs and she was…well, he was sure she had her needs too. "We can try," he persisted.

"But I don't want to hold you back from experiencing all that college entails," she argued. "I want you to meet people, to make mistakes you'll learn from, to overall, have _fun_. Not sit up and wait all night for me to come back online to tell me how much you miss me or vise versa. Jace, I love you, but–"

But before she could finish her sentence, Jace leaned in and captured her face in between his hands. Without a second thought, he mashed his lips against hers, kissing her without holding back to let her know that he loved her with every ounce of his being and that nothing–not even a few measly miles–could ever get in the way of that. He _loved_ her, and that was something she couldn't easily dismiss. She just had to know that, and with this kiss, he hoped she got the message.

Pulling back a little to breathe but still holding onto her face, Jace panted the very words that somewhat relieved Clary's worst fears–at least for a little while: "Don't think, just _feel_."

* * *

_Present Day in Wayland's Triplex Penthouse Suited For One…_

Jace's eyes kept wandering from the guys to Clary as she sat on the plush L-shaped couch in the living room. She was lying down on her back with her feet dangling off the edge, rolling the mic he had given her for Christmas a year ago in between her hands as she stared off into space. What surprised him more than the fact that the guys knew exactly what they were talking about business-wise was that she had kept his gift with her–and why shouldn't she? Even if she hated the message and the fact that it symbolized his once undying love for her, she could've covered it up with duck tape or something. But no, it remained unscathed from what he could tell.

"So do we got a deal or what?" Eric's voice snapped Jace back to the matter at hand. Jace was taken aback by the stack of papers that now littered the glass coffee table in front of him and the fact that Eric was practically jabbing his eye out with the pen he held trembling in his hand, but he concealed his surprise with an impassive look.

"I'm not going to sign if anyone disagrees with this whole set-up," he stated, his eyes set on Clary. And, as if she couldn't resist the magnetism between them, she turned her head to the side and glanced up at him.

It had to be a sin to be _that_ good looking but like Derek Zoolander had once said, "I'm pretty sure there's a lot more to life than being really, really ridiculously good looking. And I plan on finding out what that is." If only Jace had the same mindset as Derek did.

"Yeah, I'm cool with it," she said with a shrug before turning her attention back to the microphone she held in her hands.

It all happened a year ago, the memories still fresh and very much alive that if she was to close her eyes, she could lose herself in the memory. But she knew better than to do something as foolish as that, and so she just simply practiced a new exercise to get over sentimentality: study the sentimental object and take in every detail, every facet and focus on that instead of the memories that lurked underneath the surface. Supposedly, once you memorized the pattern of the object long enough, you will only remember the details of the object and not the memories that it once held, but she had yet to verify that the exercise worked at all. Even so, she had too many objects that meant something to her that even if she were to quit the band and spend every waking moment trying to rid herself of memories, she wouldn't have enough time even in her afterlife.

Jace felt a little stung by how nonchalant Clary had seemed, but with the sting came the thought that at least she wasn't hurting anymore like she used to. And that thought brought more comfort, if anything. So he would rather take a little pain to cause her pain to go away any day, because it was his fault she was in any pain in the first place.

**Clary: My eyes hurt just looking at how much the reader has to read.**

**Simon: Really? Because my eyes hurt from just having to read all that sappy love-gooeyness.**

**Jace: At least I get to enjoy that love gooeyness.**

**Simon: GOT. As in, past?**

**Jace: GOT, as in I still got some anyway, regardless of time. As for you, well…let's start with 'WILL' and work from there.**

**Clary: Really…? This again? Are you ever going to get over the machismo thing, because neither of you make it look attractive. At all.**

**Me: And I am too tired to put up with this. Gah.**


	6. Second Verse

**So this is part one of two updates because my word count was up to 8-thousand something! I know I haven't updated more frequently, but like I said before, I'm busy so you get what you get and don't complain! Enjoy :)**

_Songs:_

_Sorry by Maria Mena (Clary's 'song' that she wrote for him)_

_King Of Anything by Sara Bareilles (Clary's, uh, "opinion" about Jace ahaha…it's amazing)_

_Ignorance by Paramore (Clary's "original" song that she performs)_

* * *

_Present Day at Wayland Residency…_

"Hey," Jace said, plopping down beside Clary on the L-shaped couch where she hadn't moved a bit since coming over with the early morning surprise visit.

"Shouldn't you be supervising to make sure none of the other guys are ruining your house?" Clary asked. After all the paperwork had been signed, Jace led the boys downstairs to his personal gym/soundproof room and apparently decided to ditch them there.

"I suppose," he shrugged. "But I've seen them at their worst and rest assured, the most damage they can do is unto themselves. I just wanted to see how you're holding up is all."

"Well, you can see me now," Clary said, gesturing to her body. "I'm fine."

A furrow creased his brow and his bottom lip stuck out in an adorable pout. "You aren't, though."

So even after all these years, she was still an open book for him. She supposed she shouldn't be so shocked; he was _Jace _after all. "Well, on the outside I'm fine, but not on the inside. Not since you left."

The last word cracked as it left her mouth and she mentally swore, kicking herself for letting her emotions get the better of herself. It was just the fact that it was unexpected that really threw Clary off the moment reality hit her. And from the way Jace's features darkened at the mention of the past, she figured he was still sensitive about it too.

"Clary, I–" he started, not able to keep his emotions in check. But she cut him off by raising her hand with an apologetic smile on her face.

"Let's just…not, okay?" When he was about to protest, she further explained herself. "The guys are here. Another time, please. Just give me this much since we're going to be working together now."

Even though every inch of him was vibrating with anger, he knew lashing out wouldn't benefit either of them and after a few minutes, he finally nodded in agreement since he couldn't trust his own voice.

"So," Clary prompted after a fleeting silence took over. "How's being the number one sexiest man in the world suiting you?"

He shrugged. "You know me, Clary. I'm never satiated with being just one thing."

"I _do_ know you," she sighed. "You're never satisfied with anything."

"I'll never understand you," Jace grumbled, running a hand through his hair. "You say you don't want to talk and yet you keep hinting that you do. If you don't want to talk about it, fine, then we won't. But you've got to keep your end of the bargain up by not baiting me because it's not fair."

"Not _fair_?" She was stunned beyond belief; he thought it wasn't fair because she was being "difficult"? How dare he have the audacity to say such a thing! "You want to talk about 'not fair' with me? Really?"

"Actually yes," he snarled. "I would. Very much, because that way at least I get to know what I actually did wrong that made you stop loving me."

"Me -_me_ from loving…? Jace, what the hell are you talking about?"

"I don't even know anymore," he groaned as he stood up, starting to pace to-and-fro as he mused out loud. "Clary, what happened that day…I had no intention of letting it get that far, believe me. But if you'd just let me explain myself–"

But he didn't get to finish because Clary stood up abruptly so that her face was inches away from his. And, as if it was instinctive, he reached out and grabbed one of her hands to hold.

"Uh, we interrupting something or…?" Simon's voice–wary and a little too tense for Jace's liking–made Jace realize why Clary had stood up. Turning around slowly, letting Clary's hand slip out of his hand, he was met with four pair of confused eyes staring at him and tried his best to keep the blush from showing up on his face by imagining Simon's face being attacked by birds.

"Not at all" was the last thing Jace said as he escorted the rest of the band out of his house, not even sparing Clary a second glance as she was the last one to leave his house. Once the door clicked shut, Jace leaned his back against it and rubbed his face with his hands. Yes, he knew that bringing up the band with Alec a few weeks ago was going to have possibly risky results since it meant that he was the first one to cave after the solemn year of silence between him and Clary, but he never thought things could get _this_ out of hand so fast.

_Note to self: never follow through on whims while emotionally unstable–especially if said whims involve reconnecting with ex-girlfriend you still aren't over with._

* * *

_Over a year ago, February at Lightwood Residency…_

"Annnd we're on!"

"Hello there, forum," Jace beamed into the camera, a smile plastered on his face that made Clary's heart flutter. But she knew she wasn't allowed to speak while they were 'ON-AIR' because it would 'ruin the natural flow'. They had been recording episodes twice during the weekends–one for each day–before Jace got to know Clary better and now that they were dating, the schedule was even more hectic than ever especially because of college applications.

So they somehow managed to cram in three days of filming–Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays–just for their own blog. But what blew Clary's mind was the fact that in the span of their first two weeks of having the blog up, they had over thirty thousand subscribers and that number has been rapidly growing ever since then.

Of course, Clary suspected it had something to do with Jace and his ego, but if it benefited him–and as long as he stayed loyal–she figured she had nothing to worry about. Because at the end of the day, long after the little red recording light was switched off, _she_ was the one who got to spend hours on end with him in real life instead of a few minutes through a computer screen.

But on this particular day, Clary wasn't in much of a good mood. Earlier that day, she received a rejection letter from one of her safety colleges and Jace hadn't been much comfort afterwards like he usually was. No, this time all he could talk about were ways to 'improve the show' and earn 'higher ratings'–things that Clary had no interest for and it clearly showed.

And though she had been supported and even tried to converse with him about it, he rejected her suggestions since it 'wouldn't really improve the show'. Putting it simply, he was starting to obsess over the show like she was obsessed with music. But whereas she had the decency to shut her mouth so that she didn't blabber all about music to him since it didn't really mean anything to him, Clary was certain that attempting to sew his lips shut wouldn't even work.

Yet, she took it all with a smile on her face as she nodded in agreement to everything he said–because at that point, that was all that she had to do in order to get him to hurry through his spurts of ideas that assaulted him throughout the day so she could have her normal Jace back.

"And that's all we have time for today?" Alec repeated once he turned off the camera. "Seriously Jace? We've got to find you a good ending line, one that'll really catch the audiences attention or else we might lose them."

"Lighten up Alec," Izzy groaned as she rolled over onto her stomach from his bed. "Have you _seen_ Jace? Yeah, I highly doubt the words matter at this point. He could be talking about how he hates women, how he approves of domestic abuse and that he'll personally assist with self-abortions at this point and no one would honestly care."

"Thank you Izzy," Jace said with a roll of his eyes, "for your lovely little input. I'll be sure to send you a box of chocolates with that thank you card."

Curling up the corner of her lip in disgust, Izzy harrumphed. "You know, one day you'll need me. And when you do, I'm definitely going to laugh at you and remind you of this day, no matter how long it is from now, and you'll regret this moment for the rest of your miserable life."

Jace's eyebrow quirked up. "That so? Tell me, Wise One, what's the date today, just so I can write it down on my calendar and circle it three times to make sure it really sticks in my mind."

"Can you all quit it?" Clary quipped up, clearly irritated. The silence that ensued saturated the air with tension that not even the sharpest of blades could penetrate.

"Clary," Jace asked cautiously, "are you okay?"

_No, I'm not, to be honest with you. And since we're talking about you, I might as well come out and say that you're the reason why I'm like this–why I'm so crabby and frustrated. And you want to know why? Oh, so _now_ you care? Well, if you must know, it's because you've been neglecting me lately since all you can think about is "the show this" and "the show that" and to be honest, I'm even jealous that you're web cam is getting more action with you than I am!_

But instead of giving voice to her innermost thoughts, she plastered on a phony smile that was directed to him and nodded along. Because if she was to snap at him like that with his best friend and his sister present, she was basically shoving herself into the ditch Jace had been digging her the past two months.

* * *

_Present day, Fairchild Residency at night…_

For the umpteenth time that night, Clary went through the motions of picking up her cellphone to check for any text messages, scolding herself for even bothering, then picking it up again before setting it aside with a shake of her head, only to finally dial the numbers she had engraved into her mind and then end up deleting it since the mere thought of initiating the midnight calls again scared her witless.

_Oh come on_, a voice would tell her. _He's your band manager now, so it's completely understandable to call him at this time if it's regarding the band, right?_

But that wasn't why she wanted to call him; no, it was because she had a song she had previously written during the year of silence that no one else but her knew about since it concerned him. She had wanted to play it, and almost did on several occasions, for the guys to ask for some feedback, but the song was too personal, too intimate and overall too soon for her.

But things were changing because now she could _tell_ him, and what better way than through the only way she knew how to speak–through chords and lyrics. And if anything, this would be better for the two of them since it could possibly be on their next album.

_Lies. You are only giving yourself excuses. You want him to hear you play not because you want the song on your next album, but because you want him to _know_._

Closing her eyes, she picked up her phone and rushed to dial his number out before her fingers would turn traitor on her and purposely dial the wrong number so that she wouldn't hear his voice once again, low and intimate, pressed against her ear. She bit her inner lip and prayed that it would go straight to voicemail, since then she could at least delete the voicemail and edit it until it was perfect to play for him to hear…

"Hello?"

Her heart stopped cold mid-beat and she had to gasp in order to get oxygen into her body. "Hey."

"Clary, is that you?"

Pause.

"Yeah, it is."

Pause.

"Oh…hey. What's going on–wait, hold on a sec."

"Why?" This wasn't what she had anticipated at all; she all at once felt too comfortable, as if there had been no break in their midnight phone calls for over a year, and the old feelings of excitement took resident in her stomach, curling it into itself as it did little flips of joy.

"Hey, sorry about that. I had to, uh, change."

_By the Angel, _Clary swore at her stupid girl hormones as the images immediately flooded her mind. "Oh, okay."

"So why'd you call?"

Clary closed her eyes, not able to stop the image of him lying down on his old bed in his old bedroom back at his parent's house with nothing on but a pair of boxers. She imagined him as he pulled his faded navy blue sheets over himself before flipping onto his stomach and turning his head to the right side to face her…

"I, ah, um…I wrote a song."

Pause.

"That's…interesting. But why did you…?"

"Just–listen. And don't speak because you're going to be on speaker phone." She waited a second for an answer but didn't get one and figured that a) he was following her directions or b) he didn't hear her. Either way, she hoped he wouldn't say anything as she played to him.

Setting the phone down a foot away from her, she picked up her guitar and made some quick adjustments to the strings before she began to play.

"_Vague sound of rain_

_Pierces through my song again_

_But I get distracted by the way his toes move when he plays_

_So I let it burn…_

…_I just poured my heart out_

_There's bits of it on the floor_

_And I take what's left of it and rinse it under cold water_

_And call him up for more…_

…_And I say baby, yes I feel stupid to call you, but I'm lonely_

_And I don't think you meant it when you said you couldn't love me_

_And I thought maybe if I kissed the way you do, you'd feel it too…_

…_He said I'm sorry_

_So sorry…"_

Slipping into the lyrics and losing herself in the sad little melody, Clary felt all at ease as the swell of the powerful emotions that inspired the song flooded her once more. Only this time, leaving her with a hollow feeling instead of reducing her to tears like it once used to.

As she let the last chord ring out, Clary fluttered her eyelids open and hastily picked up the phone to take it off speakerphone as she pressed it against her ear. She said nothing for a while, only to let the true meaning of her song sink in, before she got impatient and just _had_ to know what was going on in Jace's mind.

"Jace?"

No answer.

She looked at the screen to not only find that he had hung up, but that he had texted her as well. And the longer she stared at the six words that glowed back at her, the more they blurred until they became so indistinguishable that she had to put her phone down as silent tears rolled down her cheeks, dripping onto the guitar's body.

From the nightstand beside the bed, the text message–still open–glowed its message in the dimness of her room: **I'm so sorry. We'll talk tomorrow. ~J**

* * *

_Present Day at Wayland Residency, around midnight…_

There were very few things that frightened Jace Wayland–so small was the list, that he could count the fears on one hand. First there was government officials–only, they didn't scare him as much as intimidate him. Then there was his fan club–another thing that wasn't scary as much as it was creepy since it left very little room for a scintillating conversation since the other girls knew more about him than he would even bother knowing about them. And to top the shortest list of mankind was Clary, and how much she still cared about him.

After dating Clary for so long, Jace knew that when it came to personal songs, it wasn't about the pretty melody or even the vocals–just the words themselves, purple ink stark on a white sheet of paper, mattered. And the very words that she had sung to him in that moment was enough to confirm that she still felt the same about him, only that on top of those feelings were betrayal and hurt.

Which was exactly why he had to hang up the phone after hearing her play. He should've never answered in the first place, because the last time they spoke on the phone for hours on end in the middle of the night was back things were still amazing between them. But he needed to stop the guilt that ate him up inside with every blasted ring from his phone, and answering was the only way to stop it from eating him alive. So he answered, and this was his reward: more guilt.

But those words were now haunting him: _"And I thought maybe if I kissed the way you do, you'd feel it too...he said I'm sorry, so sorry…"_

* * *

_Over a year ago, February at Lightwood Residency, the same day but much later …_

One thing Jace was always raised to be was to be open-minded, to always see all sides to a story before making judgments on another person's actions, no matter how immoral they might have been. Because in the end, the real question is posed: what would you have done differently had you been in the same exact situation–if you do act differently?

Which was why he was struggling to come up with words to say as he drove Clary home. He was trying and failing to see what could've possibly ticked Clary off back at Izzy and Alec's house, only that something had and it royally bothered him.

After pulling up into the driveway, Jace killed the engine of his car and locked the doors. He watched, barely amused, as Clary tried to open the door–calmly at first, but once she realized what was going on, she became desperate–before he had to intervene and grabbed her hands, stilling them as he intertwined his fingers in hers.

"What's bothering you this time?" he asked softly as to not sound too forceful, which would only turn Clary away from him. He looked up from their hands to see Clary staring down at their hands.

"I…" She paused to sigh as she slipped her hand away from his and instead, folded it with her other hand on her lap. "I don't want to talk about it. Not now."

"Clary," he begged, keeping his tone soft as to not sound petulant, "please, just talk to me. I don't want what ended up happening last time to happen again. Talk to me–say anything. I miss your beautiful voice."

He scrutinized her as she sucked in a deep breath, expanding her chest before she let it all out as she spoke. "I'm upset with you."

Her words stung, like a slap to the face–at first, it was just shock that made him cry out in pain, but then the stinging sensation that was so unbearable rose to the surface, prickling his skin like a thousand needles, and he felt rudely awakened. _She was upset with me the entire time?_ _For what?_

"Oh." A pause. "Well, what exactly did I do that upset you so much and what can I do to make you forgive me?"

This caused her to look up at him, pain and hatred clear in her eyes. "What you've done–what you've been doing–for the past few months is how you hurt me, not by words. You can't just simply 'do something' in order for me to forgive you, you've got to prove that you won't be the same anymore and to be honest, I don't want to tell you because I want you to find out yourself what you've been doing wrong to me so that you can at least prove to me that you really care."

"Clary," he warned, his voice steadily rising with anger. "Would you stop trying to be so mysterious with me? If you want advice, I'll give you some: don't play mind games. Not everyone thinks like you, so what I may consider 'wrong' and 'right' can differ from what you consider 'wrong' and 'right'. So just save us the time and pain and just tell me so we can deal with this now and heal faster."

She stared at him for a second, her eyes now pleading him to _understand_ with a tinge of hopelessness in them as he saw himself in her green irises, mirroring her expression. "You really don't get it, don't you?"

"I don't," Jace admitted, his anger now turning into remorse. "I'm sorry, Clary. I really am, for whatever I did that bothered you. But please, _tell me_ so I won't make the same mistake again."

"What did I get in the mail today?" she asked, her voice so low that his ears barely picked up the question.

"Clary, I don't–"

"Don't you see _now_?" she beseeched. "This, this _right now_, this is why I'm upset. Jace, what was I crying this morning, when you saw me at school?"

Although his face was blank, a million memories flickered across his mind as he tried to remember the details she was describing. _Had she really been crying this morning, or is she just messing with me?_ And the longer he remained silent as he tried to remember, the more pain showed on Clary's face.

"You really don't remember," she whispered hoarsely. "You _really_ don't remember."

"I…" But before he could even begin his sentence, she leaned in–assaulting his senses with her strawberry scent–and gently placed a finger on his lips. "Save it, Jace."

Without removing the finger from his lips, she leaned across his lap, pressed the 'UNLOCK' button and removed her finger as she stepped out of the car, the _click_ of the door as it shut closed behind her echoing loudly within the car.

* * *

_Present Day, two weeks later…_

After supervising vigorous practices once his shows were over and making desperate calls, Jace finally managed to get _Garroway's_ first real gig. Sure, it was at a club in downtown New York, but it was by far a huge step for the local band. According to Simon, the "best" gig they ever got was at a bar at around midnight since that's when the bar's occupants were all too inebriated to care. When Jace had heard this, his eyes flickered to Clary, who was setting up her mic stand. Imagining her anywhere near something like that made him shudder.

And now he they were, setting up on a real stage after some other nameless band had gone on, with him giving them instruction. "You guys might want to stick to your more popular songs, like 'My Delirium' that you played on my show since a good majority of my audience is out here and a lot of people know it better."

Clary glanced up from her microphone stand long enough to glare at him. "And what if we don't want to? We don't want them to think that we only have one song out."

"But it's a good thing if you stick to familiar territory," he countered, keeping his tone even since they were attracting attention from the rest of the band. "That way, you have a hit single. And when you reach the charts with that song, others will be interested in what other material you have. Hence, why it's more prudent to stick to making one song famous to attract attention to the others."

"I beg to differ," she growled, her face turning a shade of red. "I think if we show them all that we have now, we can see which song they prefer more and figure out which one to play more frequently than others. We put ourselves out there now and it'll benefit us later."

"He's right, though," Simon disagreed. "Clare, they only know us from one song and that's because of Jace. Don't–"

"Oh, so _now_ you're picking him over me?" Clary snapped. Jace felt his jaw drop and spared a cursory glance at Simon to see him mirroring his own expression. _Where was all of this anger coming from?_

"Clary–" Jace started, then stopped when she held a hand up.

"Forget it," she sighed. "You guys can play whatever song you like, but I'm going to be singing 'Ignorance'."

"Ignorance?" Jace asked, the song title not ringing a bell. He turned to look at the rest of the band and figured from the amount of faces meeting palms he saw that it wasn't a good thing. But before he could ask, he was escorted off stage and settled on watching as the curtain opened up on stage and a roar of excitement slammed against his eardrums.

"Hello New York City!" Clary screamed, her façade perfectly executed. "I'm Clary Fairchild and this is _Garroway_!" At the last word, Eric slammed his foot down on the pedal and crashed the cymbals, cueing everyone else to play as Clary began to hop around onstage, banging her head to the beat and shaking out her wild curls. Then, she began to sing:

"_If I'm a bad person,_

_You don't like me,_

_Well I guess I'll make my own way._

_It's a circle–I mean cycle,_

_I can't excite you anymore…"_

Jace leaned against the wall as he took in the performance; yes, he had been there for every practice since they were starting out, but he never expected them to be so…mesmerizing to watch. The way they all did their own thing to create one big picture of supposed discord made for something worth watching–and he was transfixed.

"_Well you treat me just like,_

_Another stranger._

'_It's nice to meet you sir,_

_I guess I'll go,_

_I best be on my way out!'"_

Through the chorus, Clary mocked a conversation with Simon, running a finger across his shoulders as she sang before turning on her heel and storming away. But what stood out to Jace besides the mock performance was the fact that he knew she was talking about him. She was singing about their relationship onstage, in front of hundreds, and yet she was only speaking to him.

Fixing his gaze on Clary, he made sure to take in every detail, hoping for another hint to catch. Was it in the defiant way she strode around the stage as if she owned it that made her so hard to avoid, or the way she incorporated the other band members as she walked around them, getting up into their faces as she sang the words that spelt out every emotion she felt? Or was it just the words themselves, and who was singing it?

"_Don't wanna hear your sad songs,_

_I don't wanna feel your pain._

_When you swear it's all my fault,_

_Cause you know we're not the same._

_Yeah, we used to stick together,_

_We wrote our names in blood,_

_But I guess you can't accept that the change is good._

_It's good, it's good…" _

As she paraded around stage, Clary couldn't help but feel somewhat satisfied as she sang her heart out. After a whole year of bottling up her emotions and hating herself for not saying anything when she should've, here she was, pouring out her feelings for Jace to hear. She wanted him to feel what she felt that entire year–betrayal, hurt, misery, anger and guilt. She wanted him to _understand_ what she felt that entire year–the tears, the days of no sleep, the consuming feeling of heartbreak and sometimes, the skipped meals as she spent hours lying in bed only to get up when she needed to used the bathroom.

He had _crushed_ her the moment he had left from her life, thinking it'd be as easy as simply not coming back. But it wasn't that simple, because nothing in life was just that simple.

* * *

**Clary: I like this side of me-it makes me seem tougher than just being a damsel in distress.**

**Jace: I beg to differ; you're very persistent, to say the least.**

**Simon: Ugh…these again? Clary, seriously, what is up with you?**

**Clary: What do you mean by "up with me"?**

**Jace: Yeah, Clary, what gives? I'm sick of this whole attitude thing.**

**Clary: You know better than the rest.**

**Izzy: Okay, seriously? CUT THE ENIGMAITY! I WANT TO KNOW!**

**Alec: They're not going to give it up because you asked for it. Wait for the next update.**

**Izzy: I am a very powerful woman, Alec. I wield a very large influence over Nixie. Isn't that right?**

**Me *slightly intimidated*: …Maybe. But I'm updating right after this one, so…**

**Jace: Wow, I thought I'd never say this, but I'm giving Izzy some intimidating points.**

**Izzy: Thank you, Jace. I'll take them along with a box of chocolates and an apology letter. Five hundred word count.**

**Jace *dumbstruck*: You think intimidating points are a **_**good**_** thing? I'm giving you idiotic points for that one.**

**Me: Oh boy…**


	7. Bringing Back The Hook

**Part Deux of update for today! Whew, this took some editing, but I think it's worth it, don't you? Let me know in the reviews! Merci beaucoup :)**

_Songs:_

_Siempre Tú by Diego Boneta (For the first scene with the…uh, yeah…I prefer the Spanish version because Spanish is such a sexy language, but for all those non-Spanish speakers, the English version is just as good-cough mentirosa cough :D)_

_Love The Way You Lie by Stephanie Gee (For the last scene after the gig; I know she didn't write the original chorus, but her version is so mellow and beautiful! It's on YouTube, so CHECK HER OUT!)_

_

* * *

_

_One year ago, mid-June, Fairchild Residency…_

Her heart was pounding against her chest like a caged bird desperate to be free as she stepped through the threshold of the front door with him trailing behind her. He had been silent for the most part–probably lost in thought about the show since summer meant more free time–which left Clary dangerously alone in her own muddled thoughts. Thinking back to the conversation she had had with Izzy a week ago, Clary spent the entire walk from Eric's house wondering how to go about the things Izzy had suggested for her.

"_Just be relaxed," Izzy had advised. "No pressure, okay? Otherwise, you'll over think things and start to doubt yourself. If it helps, shower beforehand and spend time looking at yourself in the mirror with just your bra and panties on."_

Unfortunately for her sake, Clary had low self-esteem that stemmed form her petite frame, flat chest and small butt. So either of Izzy's suggestions hadn't worked out so far, considering Clary was getting more paranoid by the second.

Yes, she wasn't the type to usually throw something that meant this much to her away so fast, but Jace's birthday–and their anniversary–was coming up in a week and she couldn't think of a better gift. They had been going out for almost exactly two years, the day so vivid in her imagination that she didn't need to close her eyes to call upon the memory. Her nostrils were filled with the scent of sea salt and smoke, her skin cold in some places while warm in others due to the fire flickering before her eyes and her eyes glazed over as the flame danced in front of her…

"Is anyone home?" Jace asked, interrupting her thoughts. Clary turned around and smiled nervously at him as he shut the door behind them and stared at her, an eyebrow raised in question.

"No," she said nonchalantly, folding her arms across her chest to silence her erratically pounding heart. _Okay, Clary, think! What did Izzy say? Think sexy and you _are _sexy! Remember, you're wearing a three-piece bright red lingerie set consisting of a silky lace bra with a matching low-rise G-string and garters to hold the stockings in place. Izzy bought it last week for this one night so you can feel sexy. Don't screw it up!_

But instead of the thoughts in her head reassuring her, they frightened her more. She _knew_ she wanted this, but did he want this? What would he do or say if this wasn't what he wanted at all? Would he think lower of her? And what would she do or say if he rejected her?

Throughout their entire relationship, the most they did was kiss and touch romantically, and it was all very…platonic, gentle. Yes, they had their moments where the kisses were so overwhelming, Clary felt like she was drowning in them and enjoyed spending hours getting lost in Jace, but this…this was something _new_. Territory that had yet to be ventured into–and it was about time.

The instant Clary had spoken, a naughty glint sparkled in Jace's eyes in the same nanosecond a mischievous grin played on his lips. _Two can play at that game, _Clary thought as she returned the coy smile. When Jace raised an eyebrow, Clary took two steps closer until her lips hovered a hairsbreadth away from his and stayed there for a second, testing him.

Keeping her eyes locked on his, she felt his breaths coming out in shallow spurts and she smiled in satisfaction when his pupils dilated as they drank her in. Need, lust, want and desire flickered across his expression and she made sure to enjoy every second of it before as she slowly tilted her head to the side and ever-so-lightly grazed her lips against his soft skin right at the corner of his lips.

She felt him stiffen at the touch, knowing that the spark that coursed through her lips the moment they touched his skin had shocked him. The kiss–sweet and gentle–ended quickly, but Clary kept her head there a second longer as she breathed out the three words that would seal the deal for that night: "Come with me."

Whatever had gotten into Clary, Jace hoped would stay in her for the rest of the night at the very least. The confident swagger in her walk, the way she shook her hips and flaunted it, and hell, that up-to-no-good look in her eyes drove him over the edge. It was as if he was seeing her for the first time all over again. And it wasn't just the fact that she was being so goddamn sexy at the moment, but the confidence she was radiating that he hadn't seen in almost a whole year.

Though he wouldn't hesitate to mention the fact that he greatly appreciated the sex appeal she was exuding. She wasn't even holding his hand as she led him upstairs; no, she was leading him by the rhythmic pattern of her mesmerizing hips and the simpering smile she tossed over her shoulder every time she glanced back at him and saw he was watching her. And hell, the smoldering fire in her eyes was causing his heart to palpitate in ways that would concern any doctor had he been attached to a heart monitor.

But when they stopped in front of her bedroom door, instead of opening it, Clary spun around and blocked it with her body. Unable to help himself, Jace pressed a hand on either side of her face against the door behind her and leaned in, grazing the sensitive skin behind her ear with his soft lips and placing kisses there. When he felt Clary shudder and moan in response, Jace smirked, his ego temporarily pleased.

He was about to start a trail of kisses going from behind her ear down to her collarbone when she surprised him by placing a hand on his chest and gently shoving him off. He stared up at her, easily confused by her actions.

"Count down from thirty seconds after I close my door," she breathed, and before he could ask, she opened the door and slid behind it, clicking it shut in front of him. Jace stared at the door, his thought processing skills temporarily impaired by the rush of hormones and adrenaline coursing through his veins.

"I don't hear any counting," Clary teased from the other side. That was when it clicked; she was definitely up to something, and whatever it was, it was going to be a surprise for him. Unsure of whether or not to be excited by this, Jace leaned in closer, lightly resting his weight on the door by his fingertips as he pressed an ear against the wood.

"Thirty…" he began. At first, he heard nothing; his voice rumbling against the wood made it hard to hear and Jace had to close his eyes to hone in on his hearing. Concentrating as hard as he could, he picked up a soft sound–the rustling of fabric…_but what? _"Twenty-nine…twenty-eight…"

_What could she possibly be doing in there?_ Since his eyes were closed, Jace imagined Clary standing in the middle of her room and tried to piece an action to the sound of rustling fabric. Was she making her bed? If so, why? They were probably going to end up messing up the sheets anyway…so it didn't make much sense. "Twenty-seven…twenty-six…twenty-five…"

His ears registered her floorboard underneath her carpeted floor creak and since the only area where that occurred was near her closet, he figured she had walked over there. But…_why?_ This aggravated him just as much as it thrilled him and above all, he only wanted to be in the room with her, taking advantage of her parents' absence instead of wasting time outside her bedroom playing guessing games with her.

"Do I get to come inside now?"

"Twenty-two," she chimed back, giggling. Wait…_giggling?_ What the hell was going on in there?

"Twenty…nineteen…" he continued, sighing. In the back of his mind, he wondered how Clary would react if she were to open the door at the moment to see him positioned in such a way. He smiled, picturing her staring at him with a weird look as she laughed.

And that's when he heard it; the soft yet distinct _zzzzip! _that could be identified anywhere. So she was taking off her jeans? God, was this her sort of way to torture him for laughs? Narrowing his eyes, Jace promised himself to not bother holding back the moment she would open the door.

Deciding he couldn't want any longer, Jace was about to finish the countdown with "Five, four, three, two–" but was interrupted the moment the door swung open. Fortunately for him, he had the reflexes of a cat and managed to compose himself before falling off balance. Unfortunately for him, he hadn't anticipated what he would _see_ the moment the door would actually open.

Before he was able to process anything, Clary–now wearing nothing but what had to be the most provocative piece of clothing (scratch that: whatever she was wearing clearly didn't make the cut to be called "clothing") he had ever seen her wear throughout their two years together–threw herself at him with full force, wrapping her hands around his neck and pulling him in as close as physically possible.

Stunned beyond belief, Jace kept his eyes open as Clary continued the assault and let them roam her body, drinking in every detail of her new wardrobe. _Hell, who was this seductress and what happened with my girlfriend?_ And even though a good ninety eight percent of him didn't seem to care about anything except how the red of the lingerie would match with the white of her carpeted floor, a measly two percent couldn't help but be curious as to what led her onto this new swap.

The funny thing was that regardless of whether or not he wanted time or space to ask Clary about the new swap, she wasn't letting him have it; no, instead, she was pulling him by his shirt collar over to her bed and before he knew it, she was sitting on top of him staring down at him expectantly.

"Well?" Clary asked, leaning forward to put a hand on either side of his face.

"Well what?"

"Well," she giggled, kissing him on the cheek. "I was wondering how you'd like to go about _this_."

"And this would be…?"

But this clearly wasn't the answer she was going for, proven by the way Clary pulled back to frown at him. "This being _us_ and what we're about to engage in."

Jace smiled smugly, tucking his arms behind his head. Yes, he could most definitely get used to Clary being on top of things, including himself.

"Jace, listen to me," she said sternly. "Do you have any idea what's about to…you know…uh, happen?"

He was clueless; what was going to happen? They were going to kiss? How was that different from any other time they made out? "Well, I had originally thought I was going to be the instigator like I usually am, but hey, if you want to take the reins every now and then, feel free to–"

"Jace," she interrupted, and that was when he noticed how serious she was. "I don't know how to say this, but…I kind of wanted to have sex with you."

Clary watched anxiously as Jace stared back at her, his eyes wide with disbelief, and hoped that he would at least _think _before he said anything that could possibly crush her spirit. But the longer he went without saying anything, just simply staring at her, the deeper she fell into the abyss of despair and mortification. That is, until he finally reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her up just when she was about to hit an all-time low.

"Clary," he grunted as he adjusted them both to a more comfortable position–her sitting a few feet away from him, "are you sure about this? I mean, you can't just dive into these kinds of things headfirst without thinking about it. It might not be a big deal for you, but you still have got to plan–"

"Are you a virgin?" Clary interjected. Jace stared at her incredulously; what was _up_ with her? There she sat a few feet away from him, her bottom lip jutted out in a petulant pout with her brow furrowed in anger and her arms folded high across her chest in a defiant manner, acting completely unlike herself. Was her lingerie on too tight or something?

"Clary, that isn't–"

"Just answer the question, Jace," she snapped. "Are you or are you not a virgin?" It was incredible how, even in the span of two years, sex had been a major topic neither of them decided to bring up. Not even past relationships, come to think of it. And now, embarrassed and horrified as ever, Clary was having these nagging thoughts that while Jace may be her first everything, she might not be his first _anything_. Yes, she was fully aware of how goddamn attractive he was and how she even had to snuggle up with Jace everywhere they went to stop the other girls within their vicinity from ogling at him, but never once did she ever really stop to think how many other girls he had had before her…and just how far he had gone with them.

And the fact that Jace was refusing to answer her simple question infuriated her beyond belief–his refusal being the insignificant reason she was so upset. No, it was the stupidity that overwhelmed her for not asking sooner, _before_ she ever considered taking such a huge risk only to end up getting hurt more than she once thought possible.

Back when she and Simon were young toddlers, Simon had thought of the brilliant idea to pour salt on any slug he saw because of a show he watched on TV. Clary, of course, had never seen how a slug reacted to salt before and decided she wanted to, only because Simon convinced her to join in. So when her mother wasn't looking, Clary stole a saltshaker from the kitchen, ran outside to where Simon was with their victim and poured a mountain of salt on top of it. At first, nothing seemed to be happening. But then with time and patience, Clary noticed the slug slowly shriveling up, the salt sucking all the water out of the slug's body and couldn't help but feel guilty for it.

That was how her heart felt at the moment–like the slug's body, and Jace's overall behavior was the lethal salt that was slowly draining the life out of her. "How many?" she asked quietly, her voice echoing in her ears due to the stifling silence.

"How many what?" Jace asked, his voice raw and throaty.

She didn't even bother looking at him as she spoke. "How many girls did you sleep with before me?"

"Clary–"

She glanced up and gave him the dirtiest look she could possibly muster. She knew she didn't really want to know, because none of them matter, right? They were all his past and she was his present…and possibly future. That is, if she wasn't royally screwing up her chances _for_ a future.

She watched as he ran a hand threw his golden locks and had to fight the urge to swipe it away so that she could do it for him. Then, he turned his eyes to her and she saw the hurt and frustration in their golden depths. "Clary, I don't want to lie to you, but I don't want you to worry about some other girl coming from nowhere and taking me away from you. Because that can't happen"–he reached out and grabbed her hands firmly in his own–"and it won't. Okay?"

He searched her eyes for understanding and found himself pleading for her to understand, but when she sent her eyes downcast in doubt, he felt his walls crumbling down. She wasn't reassured by his words as he hoped she would, and he didn't blame her. He had a past that wasn't too pretty, but the past made him who he was and drove him to her, so there was nothing in the world he'd trade to do it all over. Because if it weren't for all the mistakes he had done in the past before meeting Clary, he would've never kept on the lookout for her in the first place. But how could he say all that without making things sound much worse than they were–and they weren't that good to start with.

Finally, she looked up at him and when their eyes locked, he saw determination in them. He just hoped it was determination set for the right intention. "Jace…your past…well, it's your past. I understand you've changed, but I-I need to know. Just be honest with me, I'll _try_ not to get upset."

"It won't make you any happier," he said through clenched teeth. How could he get it through her head that she should just stop while she can, because it really wasn't worth it? Sometimes, he admired Clary for her persistence, but when it was being used for the wrong reasons, it was her Achilles tendon–her weakness. "But if you're so adamant on knowing the number, then I'll be honest with you: I don't know."

"You…you _don't know_?" Clary was visibly shaking with anger and Jace felt whatever shred of patience he had left in him shrivel up and die.

"You told me you wanted the truth," he spat. "And that's the truth, okay? I. Don't. Know. I lost count because I moved around a lot and as a result, I just didn't keep to serious relationships. I figured life was too short for a commitment since I was never committed to anything before. But this was all before I met you, Clary. That was who I was, and this is who I am. I'm not proud of what I did, you must understand that, but if I didn't do what I did, I wouldn't have met you. So I'm not proud, but I don't regret anything. Okay? Are you satisfied now?"

Jace took a deep breath to steady himself and looked down at their entwined hands. His were a soft gold, hers were almost porcelain; they were opposites, but couldn't be more alike. Sighing, he pulled her closer and she obeyed, rolling up into a ball in his lap. She said nothing, just whimpered as he shrugged off his button down flannel t-shirt and shoved her arms into the sleeves. Then after the shirt was adjusted so it covered most of her outfit, he pulled her as close as he could and said nothing as he rubbed her back and brushed her hair out of her face as he kissed her nonstop.

* * *

_Present day, the night of the gig at the Fairchild Residency…_

After the gig, the band went out for pizza to celebrate their first official gig. Of course, Jace and Clary got into a heated debate on who should pay the bill–Jace wanted to take the entire tab while Clary felt the band should pay for their own pizza–and wound up splitting it since Jace received an important phone call from Alec concerning the show and he couldn't continue the argument.

After that, the band went their separate ways, leaving Clary to feel very alone since her parents and Jonathan went out to dinner without her. So she took her time in the shower, scrubbing away her sweat as well as her stress, and then went on a scavenger hunt for a particular shirt to wear that she couldn't wear while her parents were home–a particular black-and-white flannel button down shirt.

Pulling it over her undershirt and buttoning it up to the top two buttons, Clary examined her reflection in the mirror. She stared for a solid minute before realizing her reflection had tears in its eyes and she blinked, only to see that the reflection's face was now tear stained.

God, she missed him. She missed the golden ocean waves that were his hair, the warmth of his liquid ocher eyes, the creases on the corners of his mouth whenever he smiled at her and the smell of his skin–vanilla, mint and just a bit of soap. The Jace she now faced was a ghost of the Jace she knew, the Jace she had lost herself in so even if she spent hours with this Jace, her old Jace was dead to her. And it was all her fault, because she didn't know how to appreciate things in life without a care in the world.

Swallowing against her tightened throat, Clary made a resolution with herself. "You can't avoid him," she said to her reflection. "He's your band manager now and you can't be mean to someone who's trying to help you. So here's the deal, Clary, and you better stick to it: from this point onwards, you're going to put your best foot out there and be as kind as humanly possible to him. And not because of what happened. You need to get over this because…because it isn't _healthy_. Okay?"

At this point, her voice was trembling as more tears threatened to spill over, but she didn't care. "You hear me? This will be the last time you will ever cry because of him. You need to let yourself heal–if not for yourself, for _me_. We need this, Clary. Please, just let it all go."

With a shaky breath, she let all her stresses go. After giving herself a hard look in the mirror, Clary snatched her phone from her bed and punched in the numbers that were permanently engraved into her mind. He answered on the second torturous ring.

"Hello?"

"It had nothing to do with you, and everything at the same time. I was so stressed out during senior year with college, with the crippling fear of not having the future I always dreamed of, the fear of failing everyone but more importantly, myself. And then you came into the picture. My biggest fear above all, the fear that shouldn't have existed in the first place, was losing you."

"Clary, _breathe._ I'm coming over, okay?"

Unable to hold it, she let out a shuddering breath and nodded. "Okay, Jace. Please…hurry."

**Me: DUN DUN DUUUUNN!**

**Jace: I must say, I'm impressed by: a) your double update and b) your ability to bring back Clary's outfit that night into my mind.**

**Clary *blushing profusely*: Ugh, this again?**

**Simon: And the cherry tomato is back in the building!**

***Clary hits Simon upside the head***

**Jace: Don't be embarrassed; I enjoyed the prospect of seeing you-**

***Clary hits Jace***

**Izzy: If she's going to start being abusive, you can so count me out of these "end-of-the-chapter-teaser-chats" whatever they are.**

**Alec *shuddering*: Same here.**

**Eric: Can I come in?**

**Izzy *glancing at him suspiciously*: Suure...you can take my place.**

**Eric *glancing at Alec*: I'll take his place so we can BOTH be in this thing together, babe.**

***Alec grimaces while I try to suppress my laughter and fail***

**Me: Oh boy...**


	8. I'll Try To Do It Right This Time Around

**WOW! So I was browsing through my old stories when I found this chapter that I haven't put up! It's incredible and really adds a resolution-though I will be a killjoy and say that this "milestone" isn't the end of the story…Muahaha I have many directions that this story has to take before it's near completion! Let's just say that the past isn't a welcome guest in the present and leave it at that for now ;)**

_Songs:_

_Jar of Hearts by Christina Perri (for the first scene, in Clary's POV)_

_Three Wishes by The Pierces (for the first scene, in Jace's POV)_

_Back To Go Again by Framing Hanley (After all is resolved)_

_Mama Do by Pixie Lott (Clary's song in the studio)_

_

* * *

_

By the time that Jace had pulled into the Fairchild driveway, opened the front door, took the stairs two-at-a-time and reached Clary's bedroom, she was an emotional wreck seconds _after_ detonation. Taking in the way she had drawn up her knees to her chin with her arms wrapped tightly around them and how disheveled her hair was as if she had pulled on it out of stress, Jace crossed the room in two strides, bent down and scooped her up. With her pulled up to his chest, Jace sat down on her bed and simply held her until the tremors wracking her body subsided.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered hoarsely, looking up at him. He grimaced when he took in the puffy red circles around her eyes and felt guilt overtake him. "I-It was all my fault. I shouldn't have pushed you away, I really–"

"Shh," he cooed, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers. He wasn't aware of how much time had passed as he held Clary, rubbing her back in soothing circles, but he didn't care. Waiting for her was something that meant more to him than anything else at that point.

"Jace?" Clary said after some time, her voice fragile and soft.

"Mm?"

"Why?"

Jace thought about this for a moment, then shrugged. "Because you were–and still are–worth it. Even if you don't want me in _that_ way, I'll always be here to be whatever you need. A friend, a boyfriend, an enemy–whatever you need, I'll be it." _But I'd much rather prefer the second one._

This caused a small smile to spread across her lips, which relieved Jace. A smile, no matter how small, was a milestone for Clary when she was like this. "My parents could very well be on their way home right now."

Jace craned his neck to look at the hallway and then at the window before he looked back down at her. "They don't seem to be here at the moment, and it won't matter either way. I won't leave even if you want me to–not until you're better. And I'm pretty sure you don't want me to leave anyway."

She narrowed her eyes. "And what gave you _that _idea?"

He grinned. "Your shirt–or should I say, mine?" When Clary looked down at her shirt and blushed, Jace chuckled. "I can't believe you kept that old thing."

"Why wouldn't I?" Clary asked, feeling more comfortable with Jace by the second. Being with him always made her happier, no matter what the circumstance, even if she was mad at him. She couldn't hate him, even if she wanted to…even if she needed to. "It means something to me."

"It means something to me, too." Regardless of how Clary was when he first arrived, Jace enjoyed everything about being in her company. Even when she was silent and neither of them said a word, the silence wasn't awkward or forced; it was all very comfortable, in fact. And it was easy to forget that what had happened between the two had happened.

Thinking back to it and figuring Clary was more emotionally stable now, Jace decided to ask what was on his mind. "So, what was that call about?"

Clary sighed, clearly disappointed that he was bringing it up, and settled on looking at the hem of the flannel shirt where the edge was frayed. Busying herself with a few loose strings, Clary explained. "You always asked why I was so stressed, why I changed since the first year. You might have not always asked verbally, but you wanted to know–that much I could tell just by looking at you. And here's why: I was scared and stressed. Scared and stressed by the college process and what applying entailed. Also, the future scared me. Not knowing about it and thinking about how one decision could change it all terrified me beyond belief. Then there were thoughts of you, and how I could lose you so easily. And then when I actually did start losing you over that web cam thing–"

"Wait," Jace intercepted. "You thought you were losing me because of the show, so you gave up on me?" Hearing this was like a blow below the belt; he always had a feeling the strain in their relationship had something to do with the show, but he had no idea it was to this caliber. To blame their failure at romance on his career was like pulling the rug out from underneath his feet, only to reveal that there wasn't any ground there in the first place. _How could she–wait, what…? Huh?_

Clary looked up at him and Jace barely registered the tears that were threatening to spill over again, his mind reeling with this revelation. _Was it really the reason why Clary was so upset with me?_ "Jace, it wasn't _just_ that. There were other reasons, but the show was a distraction on top of my fears. It was the fuel to the fire, if anything. It was mainly just my paranoia, that's all."

"But Clary"–Jace licked his lips, a nervous habit–"this is a _big_ deal. I lost you as a result of my show. Clary, I had no idea that this all snowballed from my hobby. I just…Things are different now."

Clary smiled weakly. "I know that, Jace. You're famous now because of your show, so don't regret the decisions you made."

"But it made me lose you," Jace disagreed in earnest, clutching one of her hands in his free hand. "For a whole year, more than that, and I never knew. I just thought it was because of…" Jace trailed off, his face flushing as the night of red lingerie flashed in his mind.

"Because you didn't want to screw me?" Clary snorted. "No, but I won't deny that was a huge turn-off for me." On a more sober note, Clary added, "And the fact that you gave up too early."

This got Jace's attention. "What do you mean, 'gave up too early'?"

"Exactly what I said," Clary stated matter-of-factly. "You stopped calling and trying after _two _weeks."

"Well what did you expect me to do, Clary?" Jace nearly shouted as he pulled away from her. "You were screening all my calls and whenever I'd show up at your house or anyone else's house for that matter, you would run in the other direction and tell everyone I was 'stalking' you. I'm no superhuman; I can only take so much insult to injury before I snap. And I figured that if I gave you space, you'd reconsider your actions and at the very least, apologize for acting the way you did. I can chase, Clary, but what's the point in chasing something that doesn't want to be pursued?"

"But I _wanted_ to be pursued, Jace!" Clary yelled back, her voice thick with tears. "You weren't trying hard enough, not hard enough for me!"

"Would you prefer I juggled flaming balls while serenading you on top of a unicycle?" Jace shouted back, exasperation straining his voice. "Because if you actually answered your damned phone or took the time to at least tell me, I would've! You left me with _no_ clue on what to do. _You _abandoned _me _without telling me how or why. _You_ left _me._ And yet, you're the one crying your eyes out, asking for me to beg you to take me back."

Clary was enraged; how _dare_ he try to make himself look like the victim! _"Well if you actually stopped recording your damn life away on that stupid video camera and actually lived in the moment long enough, I wouldn't have had to tell you what to do to win me back!"_

Jace was beyond furious; yes, he knew he was at fault, but that didn't mean she had no responsibility for what had happened. "That's like me telling you to stop singing! Being on TV, updating my blog, these are _my _vices and I'm sorry they don't compare to your singing or guitar playing. If you just stopped with the mind games and flat out told me these things–"

"I did," Clary said, her voice menacingly calm. "I even _cried_ in front of you the day I got rejected from one of my safety schools, but you probably don't even remember that, do you?"

_Rejected…safety schools…_The words rang a familiar bell in Jace's head, but when he groped for them, begged for them to make sense, he found no substance behind them. He felt empty inside; he was only proving her right, and it made him feel lower than the dirt below the ground.

"Of course you don't," she scoffed. "Because even at the time, you didn't bother paying attention to me. Because the show meant that much more to you than our two year relationship ever did."

"Now that's not true," Jace argued. "I was just stressed that day and for the most part, the last half of our relationship. Just like the band for you–"

"Don't you dare compare the band to your petty show," Clary snarled. "My band _never_ got in the way for us. I always made time for you and–" _and whenever you weren't around, I wrote songs for you._ But Clary caught herself, not sure whether or not it was okay to mention that tidbit of information.

"And?" Jace urged, desperate to know how her band was so different from his show. They were both vices in his eyes, mediums used to channel out emotions and feelings. And they also happened to be both of their career paths, so what made them different?

"And you always had a say when it came to my band. I was never on your show and you didn't even bother mentioning to your 'viewers' that I existed. All you cared about was gaining fame where music was just my way of expressing myself. You were in it for the money to start with; I was in it for my sanity."

She had a point. Jace and Alec used to surf the Internet and jeer at those who profited from posting idiotic behavior on it, which included putting someone in danger for the sake of fame and fortune. So that was how the blog was born; at first, to gain fame but then came the personal gain of letting emotions go while providing comic relief for others. Clary's intentions were never to profit –music was always her medium, ever since she was a child and first learned how to speak. Before that, dancing was a quick phase.

"Fine," Jace sighed, raising both hands up in submission. "You win, all right? You were right and I was wrong; but it's not all black and white. There are gray areas where we're both at fault, okay?"

"Fine," Clary agreed, narrowing her eyes. "We all have our faults."

"Finally," Jace breathed, giving Clary a weak smile. "We've come to a compromise! Halle-fucking-luljah!"

Clary frowned at his swearing for a second before returning the smile as she scooted closer. "It's a nice sound, isn't it?"

"What is?"

Clary reached up and shoved Jace to lie down before she clambered up on top of him and wrapped her arms around him. "The sigh of relief!"

"It sure is," Jace chuckled as he reached up with both hands and returned the hug.

"I agree," a voice said from the doorway. Jace and Clary quickly sat up to see Clary's parents and Jonathan staring back at them with mixed emotions on their faces–Jocelyn wearing a mask of uncertainty, Valentine a mask of shock while Jonathan stared back in awe. Clary figured Jonathan was the one who spoke out of the three–and it wasn't because of the look on his face.

* * *

_Present Day, three weeks earlier…_

Mondays were never Clary's days, especially in the morning, but this one particular Monday the week of Clary's soon-to-be live performance on TV was one of the worst in history. After dismissing her mother and engaging in a shouting match with her father that only resulted in him storming out of the house, it was all up to Jonathan to get Clary out of bed–which was a bad sign considering Jonathan waking Clary up happened on a handful of times.

Jonathan stood outside of Clary's bedroom door and with a nervous thumbs-up from his mom as his signal, he turned the handle on her door and slipped inside. As quietly as he could manage, he closed the door shut behind him and tiptoed to Clary's bedside.

"They sent _you_ in?" Clary mumbled without moving an inch or even fluttering an eyelid, scaring Jonathan witless. "Huh, they must be desperate."

"They would've thought you were dead had you not opened your big mouth," Jonathan chuckled. "And it would've made it much easier to assume so. At least if you were dead, all we would have to do is prepare your body in a morgue for a wake or–"

"Okay, jeesh, I'm up, I'm up!" Clary grumbled as she kicked the sheets off. She stared up at Jonathan, who had taken a seat at the foot of her bed, and shot him a dirty look. "You have such a way with words."

"As do you, sister," Jonathan said with a nod. "But really, what made today the Hell of all Hell days?"

"I'm nervous," Clary admitted. "The show is in five days and I'm not really sure if we're ready or not to be honest with you."

So his gut feeling was right; this had something to do with Jace. "Are you sure you're concerned about the band's performance? Because if I were you, that'd be the least of my worries. You guys sound _amazing_ and you even know that. So don't give me that excuse–what's really been bothering you lately?"

Clary shot him a look and sighed when he stared back impassively. "Fine. It has something to do with a certain person who I really don't want to see in five days but have to in order to further my career choice. Understood?"

"Most definitely," Jonathan said with a nod. "But if you can't even say his name, what makes you think you can face him in a few days?"

"I don't know," Clary groaned as she fell back onto her pillows. Jonathan watched, somewhat amused, as his sister attempted to pull her hair out with her hands. "And that's the frustrating part!"

"I don't blame you, Clare," Jonathan sympathized. "But if you need to talk…" He trailed off when he saw the glimmer of hope in her eyes. Then he added, "I'm here for you."

"Even though I'm going to act like a real girly girl?" Clary asked warily.

"I'll try," Jonathan shrugged.

"All right, but remember, you got yourself into this mess," Clary laughed nervously.

* * *

_Present day, the next day in the early morning at the Fairchild Residency…_

"Clary?" Jonathan asked, knocking gently on her bedroom door. He had been dying to get some alone with his sister since last night, but due to their parents, he didn't have time to and had to wait until this morning before he could pull her aside for a quick chat.

"Come in," Clary chimed from inside and when he stepped inside, he saw that she was wearing a black sports bra and green basketball shorts.

"Going out?"

"Just came in, actually," she panted as she detached her iPod from her sweatband case on her arm. "But I can talk, no problem."

Jonathan strode inside the room and sat down on the bed, then patted on the spot next to him for her to sit. "I was just wondering what yesterday was about, that's all. Oh, and if I need to beat someone up for my baby sister. But from what I saw, I'm assuming that's not the case?"

"Not really," Clary giggled. _God, how long ago was the last time he had heard that?_ "And things are officially resolved now."

"Thank God," Jonathan cried out. "I thought you'd _never_ get over this whole ordeal."

"To be honest, neither did I," Clary said softly. Climbing into her brother's lap like she used to, Clary resumed a comfortable position. Fighting back a flinch, Jonathan focused on her face instead of the scar on his upper thigh that was a constant reminder of what he had seen, of what he had done, for the sake of freedom.

"I'm so happy now," Clary breathed easily. "Things are going to be easier, right?"

"Right," Jonathan smiled. "Now I don't have to worry about you becoming a murderer or me having to avenge you."

"Stop it," Clary teased, giving Jonathan a light shove to the chest. "You know I wouldn't resort to killing the guy!"

Grabbing her hand, Jonathan pinned it against his chest and forced Clary to look him in the eye. "I just hope you know that whatever happens, whoever even dares messing with you–regardless of how famous he or she is–I won't hesitate to avenge you."

"Good to know," Clary laughed. Leaning in closer, Clary wrapped her arms around his shoulders and embraced him. Jonathan stiffened at first, the sudden onslaught of emotion overwhelming him, but he relaxed a second later and even brought himself to return the hug.

After nuzzling her head into his shirt–reveling the fresh laundry and aftershave scent that she could recognize anywhere with her eyes closed–Clary tilted her head up and smiled at her brother. "I love you, Jonathan."

Fighting back tears of joy, Jonathan nodded and returned the smile. "You too, kid."

* * *

_Present day, late afternoon, Wayland Residency…_

"_Every night I go_

_Every night I go sneaking out the door_

_I lie a little more_

_Baby I'ma helpless…"_

Clary felt her face flush when Jace winked at her from where he sat in the soundproof booth, but kept her head up high and continued singing without pausing. It had only been the night before since the confrontation and already things felt as if they hadn't changed a bit. The only changes besides the new producer sitting beside Jace was the professional studio they were in and that little horseplay went on since they were recording for their album.

"I'm not really feeling this song, to be honest," Magnus–the glittery producer–sighed as he leaned forward onto the soundboard. "What was the song they were playing before this one? It was much more of their style."

"'My Obsession'?" Jace asked, struggling to maintain a cool tone. Magnus infuriated Jace beyond belief with the ways he treated Jace as if he were a young pup, completely oblivious to how the music industry worked. And maybe he was ignorant when it came to certain things, but that didn't render him incapable of understanding with a willing teacher to help him.

"Yes, that one," Magnus squealed. "Oh, I love it so much! I'm thinking this album needs to be lightened up more with pop songs. Those are really in right now."

_And I think that you should lighten up more before I end up–think positive, think positive!_ Jace sucked in a deep breath and plastered a phony smile on his face. He couldn't ruin this for Clary and the band; Magnus Bane was a label name and every artist that signed onto his record label was a chart topper at least once if not the minimum five times within the first year. So he couldn't just simply get rid of Magnus because he hated the guy; not unless he wanted to be the bane of the band's existence.

"…Maybe another studio day," Magnus blabbered on. "I'll give you a week or so to come up with another song for me, mkay?"

"Sounds good," Jace nodded, barely registering the words as his eyes fixed back on Clary, who was lightly cupping her headphones with a playful smile on her lips as she swayed to the music with her eyes closed. Performing in front of millions or just with the band, she was mesmerizing. She had the rare ability to lose herself almost completely in the music every time she played that Jace admired too much to envy not possessing.

"She's beautiful," Magnus breathed, and when Jace glanced at him, he noticed that the producer was leaning in forward appearing to be as enraptured as Jace was. "You don't get talent like that nowadays."

"She's one of a kind," Jace agreed, unable to stop the smile on his lips as he turned back in time to see Clary trip over a wire. "Without a doubt."

**So it's a shortie, a filler if you prefer, but still a goodie :) SOOO let me know what you think in the reviews. What do you think so far? Should I continue?**


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